301.45    Thomas  H.  Jones. 

J72e 

1862      The  Experience  of  Thomas 
H.  Jones:  Who  Was  a 
Slave  for  Forty-Three 
Years.  Written  by  a 
Friend*  ...    (1862) 


LINCOLN  ROOM 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


THE  EXPERIENCE 


OF 


THOMAS   H.  JONES, 


WHO    WAS 


A    SLAVHi] 


FOli    FOKTY-THHEE    TEAKS 


THE  EXPEEIENCE 


OF 


THOMAS   H.  JONES,. 


WHO   WAS 


^   SLA.VE 


FOR  FOETY-THREE   YEARS 


WRITTEN  BY  A  FRIEND, 

AS     RELATED     TO    HIM     BT     BROTHER    JONES. 


BOSTON: 
PRINTED   BY  BAZIN  &  CHANDLER,  37  CORNHILL. 

1862. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1862,  by 

THOMAS  H.  JONES. 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


A  suffering  brother  would  affectionately  present  tins 
simple  story  of  deep  personal  wrongs  to  the  earnest 
friends  of  the  Slave.  He  asks  you  to  buy  and  read  it, 
for,  in  so  doing,  you  will  help  one  who  needs  your 
sympathy  and  aid,  and  you  will  receive,  in  the  perusal 
of  this  simple  narrative,  a  more  fervent  conviction  of 
the  necessity  and  blessedness  of  toiling  for  the  deso- 
late members  of  the  one  great  brotherhood  who  now  suf- 
fer and  die,  ignorant  and  despairing,  in  the  vast  prison 
land  of  the  South.  "  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men 
should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them." 

THOMAS  H.  JONES. 


TO  THE  FRIENDS  OF  SUFFERING  HUMANITY. 


The  undersigned  take  pleasure  in  certifying,  that  they  have  formed  an 
acquaintance  with  Brother  Thomas  Jones,  since  his  escape  from 
Slavery  :  having  s?en  and  perused  his  letters,  and  his  certificates  of 
Church  relations,  and  made  all  suitable  inquiries,  most  cordially  re- 
commend him  to  the  confidence  and  aid  of  all  who  have  a  heart  to  sym- 
pathize with  a  down  trodden  and  outraged  portion  of  the  great 
brotherhood.  We  would  also  say,  that  we  have  heard  brother  Jones 
lecture  before  our  respective  churches,  and  we  only  speak  the  unani 
mous  sentiments  of  our  people,  when  we  say,  that  his  narrative  is  one 
of  thrilling  interest,  calculated  to  secure  the  attention  of  any  audience, 
and  to  benefit  the  sympathizing  hearts  of  all  who  will  make  themselves 
acquainted  with  the  present  condition  and  past  experience  of  this  true- 
hearted  brother. 

E.  A.  ST0CKMA2J, 
Pastor  of  the  Wesleyan  Church,  Boston. 

DANIEL  FOSTER, 
Pastor  of  the  Free  Evangelical  Church, 
North  Danvers,  Mass. 

To  WHOM  IT  MAT  CONCERN  : — This  may  certify,  that  the  bearer, 
Thomas  Jones,  has  lectured  to  my  people,  with  good  success,  giving  a 
satisfaction  uncommon  to  one  deprived,  as  he  has  been,  of  moral  or 
mental  cultivation. 

I  can  cheerfully  recommend  him  to  all  such  as  may  be  inclined  to 
give  him  a  hearing  or  assistance  in  any  way,  in  confidence,  feeling  that 
he  is  an  honest  and  upright  man. 

A.  B.  FLANDERS, 
Pastor  of  W.  M.  Church,  Exeter,  N  H. 

Nov.  25,  1849. 


TESTIMONIALS. 


To  the  Friends  of  the  hunted  American  Slave  in  England  : — 

Boston,  Maech  29,  1851. 

In  consequence  of  the  passage  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law.  at  the  last  session 
of  Congress,  a  general  flight  from  the  country  of  all  fugitive  slaves  in  the 
Northern  States  has  become  necessary  as  a  matter  of  personal  safety.  Among 
the  number  thus  compelled  to  leave  is  the  bearer  of  this,  Thomas  H.  Jones,  a 
Wesleyan  preacher,  and  pastor  of  a  colored  church  in  the  neighboring  city  of 
Salem,  who  carries  with  him  a  narrative  of  his  life  for  sale.  Mv  personal  ac- 
(juaiutance  with  him  is  limited  ;  but  those  among  my  friends  who  know  him 
intimately  speak  of  him  as  a  most  worthy  man,  and  one  peculiarlv  entitled  to 
the  sympathy  and  aid  of  those  wlio  love  God  and  regard  man.  Though  he  is 
a  man,  "  created  a  little  lower  than  the  angels  "—  exemplary  rn  life  —  a  servant 
and  minister  of  Jesus  Christ  —  in  all  the  United  States  there  is  not  a  spot  on 
which  he  can  stand  in  safety  from  pujsuing  bloodhounds,  and  must  flee  to 
England  to  prevent  being  again  reduced  to  the  condition  of  a  beast  !  Way  the 
God  of  the  oppressed  raise  him  up  many  friends  abroad  ! 

WM.  LLOYD  GARRISON. 


Ltkn,  Jan.  17,  1859. 

I  have  been  for  several  years'  we]!  acquainted  with  the  bearer  of  this  note» 
Eev.  Thomas  H.  Jones,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  recommend  him  cordially 
to  all  who  love  God,  humanity  and  freedom.  He  was  forty-thioe  years  a 
slave,  but  by  great  courage,  industry  and  jierseverance,  has  fought  his  way  to 
freedom  of  "body  and  spirit,  and  has  devoted  himself  with  fidelity  and  success 
to  the  spiiitual  salvation  ol  men.  He  has  a  family,  part  free  and  part  yet  in 
bonds,  whose  wants  roll  heavy  responsibilities  on  liini  as  a  husband  and  iatlier, 
and  is  therefore  obliged  to  toil  hard  for  daily  bread.  I  bespeak  lor  him  the 
synii)athy  and  benevolence  of  the  public  as  an  earnest,  honest  Christian  man, 
■worthy  of  all  confidence  that  he  may  claim,  and  of  all  assistance  that  he  may 
solicit. 

TALES  H.  NEWHALL,  Pastor  of  South  St.,  M.  E.  Church, 


^  "SViLMiNGTON,  April  25,  1857. 

I  am  personally  acquainted  with  Eev.  Thomas  H.  Jones,  a  fugitive  from 
Slavery.  During  the  past  two  years  have  heard  him  preach  and  lecture  to 
lai-ge  congregations  with  much  acceptance. 

Br.  Jones  is  a  warm-hearted  Christian  and  a  worthy  Minister  of  Jesus  Christ. 

It  will  do  any  jieople  good  to  hear  him  tell  the  "  Story  of  his  wrongs," 

OEIGEN  SMITH,  Tastor  of  the  Baptist  Church  in  Dover,  Vt. 

Geeenwich,  Maecii  9, 1857. 

This  may  certify  that  Mr.  Thos.  Jones,  a  fugitive  from  Southern  bondage, 
lectured  to  us  last  eveuing  in  a  very  acceptable  manner,  and  enlisted  the  in- 
terest and  symi)athy  of  the  people  in  no  ordinary  dcgiee.  He  is  a  true  man 
and  a  beloved  brotlicr  and  tCllow  laborer  in  the  Lord.  He  leaves  behind  liim 
in  his  departure  a  pleasant  impression,  both  iu  the  Jainily  and  in  public.  He  is 
hereby  commended  to  the  kind  regaids  and  friendly  aid  of  all  who  love  the 
Divine  Eedeemer,  and  have  sympathy  with  the  oppressed. 

^  E.  P.  BLODGETT. 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 


I  was  born  a  slave.     My  recollections  of  early  life 
are  associated  with  poverty,  suffering  and  shame.     I 
was  made  to  feel,  in  my  boyhood's  first  exjoerience, 
that  I  was  inferior  and  degraded,  and  that  I  must  pass 
through  life  m  a  dependent  and  suffering  condition 
The  experience  of  forty-three  years,  which  were  passed 
by  me  m  slavery,  was  one  of  dark  feai's  and  darker  re- 
ahties.     John  Hawes  was  my  first  master.     He  lived 
'?  ^'^'!?7^''  County,  N.    C,  between  the  Black  and 
bouth  Kivers,  and  was  the  owner  of  a  large  plantation 
called^  Hawes'  Plantation.     He  had  over  fifty  slaves' 
I  remained  with  my  parents  nine  years.     They  were 
both  slaves,  owned  by  John  Hawes.     They  had  six 
children,  Eichard,  Alexander,  Charles,  Sarah,   myself, 
and  John.     I  remember  well  that  dear  old  cabin,  with 
Its  clay  floor  and  mud  cliimney,  in  which,  for  nine 
years,  I  enjoyed  the  presence  and  lave  of  my  wretched 
parents.  * 

Father  and  mother  tried  to  make  it  a  happy  ijlace 
for  their  dear  chHdren.  TheT/  worked  late  into  the 
night  many  and  many  a  time  to  get  a  little  simple  fur- 
niture for  their  home  and  the  home  of  their  children  • 
and  they  spent  many  hours  of  willing  toil  to  stop  up 
the  chinks  between  the  logs  of  their  poor  hut,  that  they 
and  their  children  might  be  protected  from  the  storm 
and  the  cold.  I  can  testify,  from  my  own  painful  ex- 
perience, to  the  deep  and  fond  affection  which  the  slave 
cherishes  in  his  heart  for  its  home  and  its  dear  ones. 
We  have  no  other  tie  to  link  us  to  the  human  family, 
but  our  fervent  love  for  those  who  are  with  us  and  of 
us  m  relations  of  sympathy  and  devotedness,  in  wrono-s 
and  wretchedness.  My  dear  parents  were  consciofis 
ot  the  desperate  and  incurable  woe  of  theii-  position 


6  NAREATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

and  destiny ;  and  of  the  lot  of  inevitable  suffering  in 
store  for  their  beloved  children.  They  talked  about 
our  coming  misery,  and  they  lifted  up  their  voices  and 
wept  aloud,  as  they  spoke  of  our  being  torn  from  them 
and  sold  off  to  the  dreaded  slave-trader,  perhaps  never 
again  to  see  them  or  hear  from  them  a  word  of  fond 
love.  I  have  heard  them  speak  of  their  willingness  to 
bear  their  own  sorrows  without  complaint,  if  only  we, 
their  dear  children,  could  be  safe  from  the  wretched- 
ness before  us.  And  I  remember,  and  now  fully  un- 
derstand, as  I  did  not  then^  the  sad  and  tearful  look 
they  would  fix  upon  us  when  we  were  gathered  round 
them  and  running  on  with  our  foolish  prattle.  I  am  a 
father,  and  I  have  had  the  same  feelings  of  unspeaka- 
ble anguish,  as  I  have  looked  upon  my  precious  babes, 
and  have  thought  of  the  ignorance,  degradation  and 
woe  which  they  must  endure  as  slaves.  The  great 
God,  who  knoweth  all  the  secrets  of  the  heart,  and  He 
only,  knows  the  bitter  sorrow  I  now  feel  when  I  think 
of  my  four  dear  children  who  are  slaves,  torn  from  me 
and  consigned  to  hopeless  servitude  by  the  iron  hand 
of  ruthless  wrong.  I  love  those  children  with  all  a 
father's  fondness.  God  gave  them  to  me ;  but  my 
brother  took  them  from  me,  in  utter  scorn  of  a  father's 
earnest  pleadings ;  and  I  never  shall  look  upon  them 
again,  till  I  meet  them  and  my  oppressors  at  the  final 
gathering.  Will  not  the  Great  Father  and  God  make 
them  and  me  reparation  in  the  final  award  of  mercy  to 
the  victim,  and  of  Justice  to  the  cruel  desolator  ?  < 

Mr.  Hawes  was  a  very  severe  and  cruel  master.  He 
kept  no  overseer,  but  managed  his  own  slaves,  with  the 
help  of  Enoch,  his  oldest  son.  Once  a  year  he  distrib- 
uted clothing  to  his  slaves.  To  the  men  he  gave  one 
pair  of  shoes,  one  blanket,  one  hat,  and  five  yards  ol 
coarse,  homespun  cotton  ;  to  the  women  a  correspond- 
ing outfit,  and  enough  to  make  «ie  frock  for  each  of 
the  children.  The  slaves  were  obliged  to  make  up  their 
own  clothes,  after  the  severe  labor  of  the  plantation  had 
been   performed.^     And   other   clothing,   beyond   this 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       T 

yearly  supply,  which  they  might  need,  the  slaves  were 
compelled  to  get  by  extra  work,  or  do  without. 

The  supply  of  food  given  out  to  the  slaves,  was  one 
peck  of  corn  a  week,  or  some  equivalent,  and  nothing 
besides.  They  must  grind  their  own  corn,  after  the 
work  of  the  day  was  performed,  at  a  mill  which  stood 
on  the  plantation.  We  had  to  eat  our  coarse  bread 
without  meat,  or  butter,  or  milk.  Severe  labor  alone 
gave  us  an  appetite  for  our  scanty  and  unpalatable 
fare.  Many  of  the  slaves  were  so  hungry  after  their 
excessive  toil,  that  they  were  compelled  to  steal  food 
in  addition  to  this  allowance. 

During  the  planting  and  harvest  season,  we  had  to 
work  early  and  late.  The  men  and  women  were  called 
at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  were  worked  on  the 
plantation  till  it  Avas  dark  at  night.  After  that  they 
must  prepare  their  food  for  supper  and  for  the  break- 
fast of  the  next  day,  and  attend  to  other  duties  of  their 
own  dear  homes.  Parents  would  often  have  to  work 
for  their  children  at  home,  aftereach  day's  protracted 
toil,  till  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  then  snatch  a  few 
hours'  sleep,  to  get  strength  for  the  heavy  burdens  of 
the  next  day. 

In  the  month  of  November,  and  through  the  winter 
season,  the  men  and  women  worked  in  the  fields,  clear- 
ing up  new  land,  chopping  and  burning  bushes,  burn- 
ing tar  kilns,  and  digging  ditches.  They  worked  to- 
gether, poorly  clad,  and  suffering  from  the  bitter  cold 
and  wet  of  those  winter  months.  Women,  wives  and 
mothers,  daughters  and  sisters,  on  that  plantation,  were 
compelled  to_  toil  on  cold,  stormy  days  In  the  open  field, 
while  the  piercing  wind  and  driving  storm  benumbed 
their  limbs,  and  almost  froze  the  tears  that  came  forth 
out  of  their  cold  and  desolate  hearts.  Little  boys,  and 
girls,  too,  worked  and  cried,  toting  brush  to  the  fires, 
husking  the  corn,  watching  the  stock,  and  running  on 
errands  for  master  and  mistress,  and  their  three  sons, 
Enoch,  Edward  and  John,  and  constantly  receiving 
from  them  scoldings  and  beatings  as  their  reward. 


8        NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

Tims  passed  nine  years  of  my  life  ;  years  of  suffer- 
ing, the  shuddering  memory  of  which  is  deeply  fixed 
in  my  heart.  Oh,  that  these  happy,  merry  boys  and 
girls,  whom  I  have  seen  in  Massachusetts  since  my  es- 
cape from  slavery,  whom  I  have  so  often  met  rejoicing 
in  their  mercies  since  I  came  here,  only  knew  the  deep 
wretchedness  of  the  poor  slave  child  !  For  then,  I  am 
sure,  their  tender  hearts  would  feel  to  love  and  pray 
for  these  unhappy  ones,  on  whose  early  life  hopeless 
sufferings  bear  down  a  crushing,  killing  burden  ! 
These  nine  years  of  wretchedness  passed,  and  a  change 
came  for  me.  My  master  sold  me  to  Mr.  Jones,  ot 
Wilmington,  N.  C,  distant  forty-five  miles  from  Hawes' 
plantation.  Mr.  Jones  sent  his  slave  driver,  a  colored 
man  named  Abraham,  to  conduct  me  to  my  new  home 
in  Wilmington.  I  was  at  home  with  my  mother  when 
he  came.     He  looked  in  at  the  door,  and  called  to  me, 

"  Tom,  you  must  go  with  me."  His  looks  were 
ugly,  and  his  voice  was  savage.  I  was  very  mnph 
afraid,  and  began  to  cry,  holding  on  to  my  mother's 
clothes,  and  begging  her  to  protect  me,  and  not  let  the 
man  take  me  away.  Mother  wept  bitterly,  and  in  the 
midst  of  her  loud  sobbings,  cried  out  in  broken  words, 
"  I  can't  save  you,  Tommy  ;  master  has  sold  you,  you 
must  go."  She  threw  her  arms  around  me,  and  while 
the  hot  tears  fell  on  my  face,  she  strained  me  to  her 
heart.  There  she  held  me,  sobbing  and  mourning,  till 
the  brutal  Abraham  came  in,  snatched  me  away,  hur- 
ried me  out  of  the  house  where  I  was  born,  my  only 
'home,  and  tore  me  away  from  the  dear  mother  who 
loved  me  as  no  other  friend  could  do.  She  followed 
him,  imploring  a  moment's  delay,  and  weeping  aloud, 
to  the  road,  where  he  turned  around,  and  striking  at 
her  with  his  heavy  cowhide,  fiercely  ordered  her  to 
stop  bawling,  and  go  back  into  the  house. 

T'hus  was  I  snatched  from  the  presence  of  my  loving 
parents,  and  from  the  true  affection  of  the  dear  ones  oi 
home.  For  thirteen  weary  years  did  my  heart  turn  in 
its  yearning  for  that  precious  home.     And  then  at  the 


NARRATIVE  OP  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.        9 

age  of  twenty-two,  was  I  permitted  to  revisit  my  early 
home.     I  found  it  all   desolate ;  the   family  all   broken 
up ;  father  was    sold  and  gone  ;  Richard,  Alexander, 
Charles,  Sarah  and  John,  were  sold  and  gone.    Mother 
prematurely  old,  heart-broken,  utterly  desolate,  weak 
and  dymg,  alone  remained.     I  saw  her,  and  wept  once 
more  on  her  bosom.     I  went  back  to  my  chains  with  a 
deeper  woe  in  my  heart  than  I  had  ever  felt  before. 
There  was  but  one  thought  of  joy  in  my  wretched  con- 
sciousness, -and  that  was,  that  my  kind  and  precious 
mother  would  soon  be  at  rest  in  the  grave.     And  then, 
too,  I  remember,  I  mused  with  deep  earnestness  on 
death,  as  the  only  friend  the  poor  slave  had.     And  I 
wished  that  I  too,  might  lie  down  by  my  mother's  side, 
and  die  with  her  in  her  loving  embrace. 

I  should  have  related,  that  one  of  the  earliest  scenes 
of  painful  memory  associated  with  my  opening  years  of 
suffering,  is  connected  with  a  severe  whipping  which  my 
master  inflicted  on  my  sister  Sarah.     He  tied  her  up, 
having  compelled  her  to  strip  herself  entirely  naked,  in 
the  smoke  house,  and  gave  her  a  terrible  whipping— at 
least  so  it  seemed  to  my  young  heart,  as  I  heard  her 
scream,  and  stood  by  my  mother,  who  was  wringing  her 
hands  in  an  agony  of  grief,  at  the  cruelties  which  her 
tender  child  was  enduring.     I  do  not  know  what  my 
sister  had  done  for  which  she  was  then  whipped  :  but  I 
remember  that  her  body  was  marked  and  scarred  for 
vveeks  after  that  terrible  scourging,  and  that  our  parents 
Always  after  seemed  to  hold  their  breath  when  they  • 
apoke  of  it.     Sarah  was  the  last  of  the  family  who  was 
Gold  ;  and  my  poor  mother  never  looked  up  after  this 
imal  act  of  cruelty  was  accomplished.     I  think  of  my 
only  sister  now ;  and  often  try  to  imagine  where  she  is, 
and  how&hQ  fares  in  this  cruel  land  of  slavery.     And, 
oh,  my  God,  how  dark  and  wretched  are  these  pictures ! 
Can  I  think  of  that  poor  sister  without  a  sorrow  too 
great  for  utterance  ?     Ah  me  !  how  can  the  generous, 
loving  brother  or  sister,  blessed  with  freedom,  forget 
the  cruel  sorrows  and   wronprs   of  the  slave  brother 


10       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

and  sister  ?  How  fellowship,  even  In  the  least  act  of 
comity,  the  atrocious  slave-holder  ?  There  may  be 
some  who  do  this  from  ignorance  of  such  cruel  wrono;s. 
God  grant  this  simple  story  may  enlighten  some  who 
only  need  to  Tcjiow  our  deep  necessities,  to  give  us  their 
willing  sympathy  and  aid  and  love. 

My  journey  to  Wilmington  with  the  heartless  Abra- 
ham was  a  very  sad  one.     We  walked  all  the  way.     I 
was  afraid  of  my  savage  companion ;  and  yet  my  heart 
felt  so  desolate,  and  my  longings  for  sympathy   so  in- 
tense, that  I  was  impelled  to  turn  to  my  cruel  guide  for 
relief.    He  was  striding  along  in  stern  gloom  and  silence 
too  fast  for  my  young  feet  to  keep  pace  ;  and  I  began 
to  feel  that  I  must  stop  and  rest.     It  was  bitter  cold, 
too,  and  I  was  poorly  clad  to  bear  the  keen  air  of  a  Jan- 
uary day.     My  limbs  were  weary  Avith  travel,  and  stiff 
with  cold.     I  could  not  go  on  at  the  rate  I  had  done, 
and  so  I  turned  to  my  guide  and  begged  him  to  take  me 
into  some  hut  and  let  me  rest  and  get  Avarm.  He  cursed 
me,  and  told  me  to  keep  silence  and  come  along,  or  he 
would  warm  me  with  a  cowhide.     Oh,  I  thought  how 
cruel  and  hopeless  my  lot !     Would  that  I  could  fall 
down  here  and  die.     And  I  did  fall  down.     We  had 
just  passed  through  a  soft,  wet  place,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  that  I  was  frozen.     And  I  fell  down  on  my  dark, 
cold  way,  unable  to  proceed.     I  was  then  carried  into  a 
slave's  cabin,  and  allowed  to  warm  and   rest.     It  was 
nearly  midnight  when  I  arrived,  with  my  conducter,  at 
my  place  of  exile  and  suffering.    And  certainly  no  heart 
could  be  more  entirely  wretched  than  I  was  when  I 
threw  my  weary,  aching  body  orf  my   cold,   hard  bed. 
The  next  morning  I  was  called  into  the  presence  of 
Mr.  Jones,  my  new  master,  and  my  work  was  assigned 
to  me.     I  was  to  take  care  of  the  old  gray  horse,  kept 
for  the  use  of  the  family  when  they  wished  to  ride  out, 
to  fetch  water  from  the  spring  to  the  house,  to  go  on 
errands  to  my  master's   store,  to  clean  the  boots  and 
shoes  belono-ino;  to  the  white  members  of  the  family,  and 
to  the  white  visitors,  to  sweep  the  rooms,  and  to  bring 


NAREATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       11 

wood  from  the  wharf  on  my  head  for  the  fires  at  the 
house  and  store.  From  the  first  dawn  of  day  till  ten 
and  eleven,  and  sometimes  twelve  at  night,  I  could 
hardly  find  one  moment's  time  for  rest.  And,  oh,  how 
the  memory  of  that  year  of  constant  toil  and  weariness 
is  imprinted  on  my  heart,  an  impression  of  appalling 
sorrow.  My  dreams  are  still  haunted  with  the  agony 
of  that  year.  I  had  just  been  torn  from  my  home  ;  my 
yearning  heart  was  deprived  of  the  sweet  sympathy  of 
those  to  whose  memory  I  then  clung,  and  to  whom  my 
heart  still  turns  with  irrepressible  and  unutterable  long- 
ings. I  was  torn  from  them  and  put  into  a  circle  of 
cold,  selfish  and  cruel  hearts,  and  put  then  to  perform 
labors  too  great  for  my  young  strength.  And  yet  I 
lived  through  that  year,  just  as  the  slave  lives  on  throuo-h 
weary  years  of  suffering,  on  which  no  ray  of  light 
shines,  save  that  which  hope  of  a  better,  happier  future 
gives  even  to  the  desolate  bondman.  I  lived  through 
it,  with  all  its  darkness  and  sorrow.  That  year  I  re- 
ceived my  first  whipping.  I  had  failed  one  day  to  finish 
my  allotted  task.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  done  my 
best ;  but  somehow,  that  day,  thoughts  of  home  came  so 
fresh  and  tender  into  my  mind,  and,  along  with  these 
thoughts,  a  sense  of  my  utter  hopeless  desolation  came 
in  and  took  such  a  strong  hold  of  my  heart,  that  I  sank 
down  a  helpless,  heart-broken  child.  My  tasks  for  that 
day  were  neglected.  The  next  morning  my  master 
made  me  strip  off  my  shirt,  and  then  whipped  me  with 
a  cowhide  till  the  blood  ran  trickling  down  upon  the 
floor.  My  master  was  very  profane,  and  with  dreadful 
oaths,  he  assured  me  that  there  was  only  one  way  for 
me  to  avoid  a  repetition  of  this  terrible  discipline,  and 
(hat  was  to  do  my  tasks  every  day,  sick  or  well. 

And  so  this  year  went  by,  and  my  duties  were 
changed,  and  my  lot  was  made  a  little  easier.  The 
cook,  Fanny,  died,  and  I  was  put  into  her  place.  I  still 
had  to  get  wood,  and  keep  the  fires  in  the  house,  and, 
after  the  work  of  cooking,  setting  the  table,  clearing 
away  and  washing  the  dishes,  there  was  always  some- 


12       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

thing  to  be  done  for  my  mistress.  I  got  but  little  time 
to  rest ;  but  I  got  enough  to  eat,  which  I  had  not  done 
the  year  before.  I  was  by  the  comfortable  fire  a  good 
part  of  the  cold  winter  weather,  instead  of  beino-  ex- 
posed to  the  cold  and  wet,  without  warm  clothing,  as  I 
had  been  the  year  before,  and  my  labor  was  not  so  hard 
the  second  year  as  it  had  been  the  first. 

My  mistress  complained  of  me  at  length,  that  I  was 
not  so  obedient  as  I  ought  to  be,  and  so  I  was  taken 
from  the  house  into  the  store.     My  business  there  was 
to  open  and  sweep  out  the  store  in  the  morning,  and  get 
all  the  things  ready  for  the  accommodation  of  customers 
who  might  come  in  during  the  day.     Then  I  had  to 
bring  out  and  deliver  all  heavy  articles  that  might  be 
called  for  during  the  day,  such  as  salt,  large  quantities 
of  which  were  sold  in  the  store,  ship  stores,  grain,  &c. 
I  had  also  to  hold  myself  ready  to  run  on  any  errand  my 
master  or  clerk,  David  Cogdell,  might  wish  to  send  me 
on.     While  Cogdell  remained  in  the  store,  I  enjoyed  a 
gleam  of  happiness.     He  was  very  kind  to  me,  never 
giving  me  a  cross  word  or  sour  look ;  always  ready  to 
show  me  how  to  do  anything  which   I  did  not  under- 
stand, and  to  perform  little  acts  of  kindness  to  me.    His 
condescension  to  me,  a  poor,  despised,  homeless  and 
friendless  slave,  and  his  tenderness  to  me,  while  all  oth- 
ers Vf^YQ  severe  and  scornful,  sank  down  a  precious  bond 
of  grateful  emotion  Into  my  desolate  heart.     I  seemed 
to  be  lifted  up  by  this  noble  friend  at  times,   from  the 
dark  despair  which  had  settled  down  upon  my  life,  and 
to  be  joined  once  more  to  a  living  hope  of  future  im- 
provement in  my  sad  lot.     Should  these  simple  words 
ever  meet  the  eye  of  David   Cogdell,   let  them   assure 
him  of  my  fervent  gratitude  and  affection  for  his  good- 
n3ss  to  me.     Let  them  tell  him  how  infinitely  precious 
to  my  mourning  heart,   then   and  now,   liis   generous 
treatment  and  noble  kindness  to  a  despised  and  unhappy 
boy.     And  let  them  say  to  him,  "  My  early  and  true 
f-iend,  Tommy,  the  poor  slave  boy,  whom  you  blessed 
with  unfailing  kindness,  has  now  grown  to  be  a  man. 


NARRATIVE  OP  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       1^ 

and  has  run  away  from  the  dark  misery  of  bondage. 
And  now,  when  he  calls  upon  his  Father  in  Heaven  to 
pour  out  rich  blessings   on   the   few  friends  who'  have 
aided  him,  then  David  Cogdell  is  remembered  with  fond 
and  fervent  affection."     David  was  one  of  the  few  who 
always  regarded  the  feelings  and  happiness  of  others  as 
earnestly  as  his  own ;  who  find  their  own  happiness  in 
making  the  unfortunate  happy  by  sympathy  and  kind- 
ness, and  who  would  suffer  any  loss  rather  than  do  in- 
justice to  the  poor  and  defenceless.     I  often  wondered 
how  there  could  be  such  a  difference  in  the  character  of 
two  men,  as  there  was  between  that  of  my  master  and 
my  friend  and  benefactor,  David  Cogdell.    And  I  often 
wished  that  I  might  pass  into  the  hands  of  such  a  man 
as  he  was.    But  his  kindness  and  generosity  to  the  poor 
slaves  was  very  offensive  to  my  master,  and  to   other 
slaveholders  ;  and  so,  at  length,  Mr.  Jones  turned  him 
off,  though  he  was  compelled  to  acknowledge,  at  the 
same  time,  that  he  was  the  most  trustworthy  and  valu- 
able assistant  he  ever  had  in  his  store.  , 
After  my  master  dismissed  Mr.  C,  he  tried  to  get 
along  with  me  alone  in  the  store.     He  kept  the  books 
arid  waited  upon   the   most  genteel  of  his  customers, 
leaving  me  to  do  the  rest  of  the   work.     This  went  on 
six  months,  when  he  declared  that  he   could  not  bear 
this  confinement  any  longer ;  and  so  he  got  a  white  boy 
to  come  and  enter  as  clerk,  to  stay  till  he   was   of  age. 
James  Dixon  was  a  poor  boy  about  my  own  age,  and 
when  he  came  into  the  store,  could  hardly  read  or 
write.    He  was  accordingly  engaged  a  part  of  each  day 
with  his  books  and  writing.     I  saw  him  studying,  and 
asked  him  to  let  me  see  his  book.     When  he  felt  in  a 
good  humor,  James  was  very  kind  and  obliging.     The 
great  trouble  with  him  was,  that  his   fits  of  ill-humor 
were  much  more  frequent  than  his  times  of  good  feel- 
ing.   It  happened,  however,  that  he  was  on  good  terms 
with  himself  when  I  asked  him  to  show  me  his  book,  and 
so  he  let  me  take  it  and  look  at  it,   and  he   answered 
very  kindly  many  questions  which  I  asked  him  about 


14       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

books  and  schools  and  learning.  He  told  me  that  he 
was  trymg  to  get  learning  enough  to  fit  him  to  do  a 
good  business  for  himself  after  he  should  get  through 
with  Mr.  Jones.  He  told  me  that  a  man  who  had 
learning  would  always  find  friends,  and  get  along  very 
well  in  the  world  without  having  to  work  hard,  while 
those  who  had  no  learning  would  have  no  friends  and 
be  compelled  to  work  very  hard  for  a  poor  living  all 
their  days.  This  was  all  new  to  me,  and  furnished  me 
topics  for  wondering  thought  for  days  afterwards.  The 
result  of  my  meditations  was,  that  an  intense  burning 
desire  to  learn  to  read  and  write  took  possession  of  my 
mind,  occupying  me  wholly  in  waking  hours,  and  stir- 
ring up  earnest  thoughts  in  my  soul  even  when  I  slept. 
The  question  which  then  took  hold  of  my  whole  con- 
sciousness was,  How  can  I  get  a  book  to  begin  ?  James 
told  me  that  a  spelling-book  was  the  first  one  necessary 
in  getting  learning.  So  I  contrived  how  I  might  obtain 
a  spelling-book.  At  length,  after  much  study,  I  hit 
upon  this  plan :  I  cleaned  the  boots  of  a  Mr.  David 
{Smith,  Jr.,  who  carried  on  the  printer's  business  in  Wil- 
mington, and  edited  the  Cape  Fear  Ixecorder.  He  had 
always  appeared  to  me  a  very  kind  man.  I  thought  I 
would  get  him  to  aid  me  in  procuring  a  spelling-book. 
So  I  went  one  morning,  with  a  beating  heart,  into  his 
oflSce,  and  asked  him  to  sell  me  a  sjjclling-book.  He 
looked  at  me  in  silence  and  with  close  attention  for  some 
time,  and  asked  me  what  I  wanted.  I  told  him  I  wanted 
to  learn  to  read.  He  shook  his  head,  and  replied,  "  No, 
Thomas,  it  would  not  answer  for  me  to  sell  you  a  book 
to  learn  out  of;  you  will  only  get  yourself  into  trouble 
if  you  attempt  it ;  and  I  advise  you  to  get  that  foolish 
notion  out  of  your  head  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

David's  brother,  Peter  Smith,  kept  a  book  and  sta- 
tionery store  under  the  printing-office,  and  I  next  ap- 
plied to  him  for  a  book,  determined  to  persevere  till  I 
obtained  this  coveted  treasure.  He  asked  me  the  same 
question  that  his  brother  David  had  done,  and  Avith  the 
same  searching,  suspicious  look.      By  my  previous  re- 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       15 

pulse  I  had  discovered  that  I  could  not  get  a  spelling- 
book  if  I  told  Avhat  I  wanted  to  do  with  it,  and  so  I  told 
a  lie,  in  order  to  get  it.  I  answered,  that  I  wanted  it 
for  a  white  boy,  naming  one  that  lived  at  my  master's, 
and  that  he  had  given  me  the  money  to  get  it  with,  and 
had  asked  me  to  call  at  the  store  and  buy  it.  The  book 
was  then  handed  out  to  me,  the  money  taken  in  return, 
and  I  left,  feeling  very  rich  with  my  long-desired  treas- 
ure. I  got  out  of  the  store,  and,  looking  around  to  see 
that  no  one  observed  me,  I  hid  my  book  in  my  bosom, 
and  hurried  on  to  my  work,  conscious  that  a  new  era 
in  my  life  was  opening  upon  me  through  the  possession 
of  this  book.  That  counsciousness  at  once  awakened 
new  thoughts,  purposes,  and  new  hopes,  a  new  life,  in 
fact,  in  my  experience.  My  mind  was  excited.  The 
words  spoken  by  James  Dixon  of  the  great  advantages 
of  learning,  made  me  intensely  anxious  to  learn.  I  was 
a  slave  ;  and  1  knew  that  the  whole  community  was  in 
league  to  keep  the  poor  slave  in  ignorance  and  chains. 
Yet  I  longed  to  be  free,  and  to  be  able  to  move  the 
minds  of  other  men  by  my  thoughts.  It  seemed  to  me 
noAv,  that,  if  I  could  learn  to  read  and  write,  this  learn- 
ing might — nay,  I  really  thought  it  would,  point  out  to 
me  the  way  to  freedom,  influence,  and  real,  secure  hap- 
piness. So  I  hurried  on  to  my  master's  store,  and, 
watching  my  opportunity  to  do  it  safe  from  curious 
eyes,  I  hid  my  book  with  the  utmost  care,  under  some 
liquor  barrels  in  the  smoke  house.  The  first  opportu- 
nity I  improved  to  examine  my  book.  I  looked  it  over 
with  the  most  intent  eagerness,  turned  over  its  leaves, 
and  tried  to  discover  what  the  new  and  strange  charac- 
ters which  I  saw  in  its  pages  might  mean.  But  I  found 
it  a  vain  endeavor.  I  could  understand  a  picture,  and 
from  it  make  out  a  story  of  immediate  interest  to  my 
mind.  But  I  could  not  associate  any  thought  or  fact 
with  these  croooked  letters  with  which  my  primer,  was 
filled.  So  tiae  next  day  I  sought  a  favorable  moment, 
and  asked  James  to  tell  me  where  a  scholar  must  begin 
in  order  to  learn  to  read,  and  how.     He  laughed  at  my 


16       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

ignorance,  and  taking  his  spelling-book,  showed  me  the 
alphabet  in  large  and  small  letters  on  the  same  page.   I 
asked  him  the  name  of  the  first  letter,  pointing  it  out ; 
he  told  me  A  ;  so  of  the  next,  and  so  on  through  the 
alphabet.     I  managed  to  remember  A   and  B,  and  I 
studied  and  looked  out  the  same  letters  in,many  other 
parts  of  the  book.    And  so  I  fixed  in  a  tenacious  mem- 
ory the  names  of  the  first  two  letters  of  the  alphabet. 
But  I  found  I  could  not  get  on  without  help,  and  so  I 
applied  to  James  again  to  show  me  the  letters  and  tell 
me  their  names.     This  time  he  suspected  me  of  trying 
to  learn  to  read  myself,  and  he  plied  me  with  questions 
till  he  ascertained  that  I  was,  in  good  earnest,  entering 
uj)on  an  effort  to  get  knowledge.     At  this  discovery  he 
manifested  a  good  deal  of  indignation.     He  told  me,  in 
scorn,  that  it  was  not  for  such  as  rae  to  try  to  improve, 
that  /  was  a  slave,^  and  that  it  was  not  proper  for  me  to 
learn  to  read.     He  threatened  to  tell  my  master,  and  at 
length,   by   his    hard   language,  my    anger  was  fully 
aroused,  and  I  answered  taunt  with  taunt.  He  called  me 
a  poor,  miserable  nigger ;   and  I  called  him  a  poor,  ig- 
norant white  servant  boy.     While  we  were  engaged  in 
loud  and  angry  words,  of  mutual  defiance   and  scorn, 
my  master  came  into  the  store.      Mr.  Jones  had  never 
given  me  a  whipping  since  the  time  I  have  already  de- 
scribed, during  my  first  year  of  toil,  want  and  suffering 
in  his  service.      But  he  now  caught  me  in  the  unpar- 
donable offence  of  giving  saucy  language  to  a  white 
boy,  and  one,  too,  who  was  in  his  employ.     Without 
stopping  to  make  any  inquiries,  he  took  down  the  cow- 
hide,  and  gave  me  a  severe  whipping.     He  told  me 
never  talk  back  to  a  white  man  on  pain  of  flogging. 
I  suppose  this  law  or  custom  is  universal  at  the  south. 
And  I  suppose  it  is  thought  necessary  to  enforce  this 
habit  of  obsequious  submission  on  the  part  of  the  col- 
ored people  to  the  whites,  in  order  to  maintain  their  su- 
premacy over  the  poor,  outraged  slaves. 

I  will  mention,  in  this  connection,  as  illustrative  of 
this  cruel  custom,  an  incident  which  I  saw  just  befoi'el 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       17 

ran  away  from  my  chains.  A  little  colored  boy  was 
carrying  along  through  Wilmington  a  basket  of  food. 
His  name  was  Ben,  and  he  belonged  to  Mrs.  Eunkin,  a 
widoAV  lady.  A  little  mischievous  white  boy,  just  about 
Ben's  age  and  size,  met  him,  and  jDurposely  overturned 
the  little  fellow's  basket,  and  scattered  his  load  in  the 
mud.  BenJ  in  return  for  this  wanton  act,  called  him 
some  hard  name,  when  the  white  boy  clinched  him  to 
throw  him  down  with  the  scattered  fragments  upon  his 
basket  in  the  mud.  Ben  resisted,  and  threw  down  the 
white  boy,  proving  to  be  the  stronger  of  the  two.  Tom 
Myers,  a  young  lawyer  of  Wilmington,  saw  the  con- 
test, and  immediately  rushing  out,  seized  little  Ben  and 
dragged  him  into  the  store  opposite  the  place  of  battle. 
He  sent  out  to  a  saddler's  shop,  procured  a  cowhide, 
and  gave  the  little  fellow  a  tremendous  flogging,  for  the 
daring  crime  of  resisting  a  white  boy  who  had  Avanton- 
ly  invaded  his  rights.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  spirit 
of  self-respect  of  the  poor  ignorant  slave  is  broken  down 
by  such  treatment  of  unsparing  and  persevering  cruel- 

I  was  now  repulsed  by  James,  so  that  I  could  hope 
for  no  assistance  from  him  in  learning  to  read.  But  I 
could  not  go  on*  alone. .  I  must  get  some  one  to  aid  me 
in  starting,  or  give  up  the  effort  to  learn.  This  I  could 
not  bear  to  do.  I  longed  to  be  able  to  read,  and  so  I 
cast  about  me  to  see  what  I  could  do  next.  I  thought 
of  a  kind  boy  at  the  bake-house,  near  my  own  age.  I 
thought  he  would  help  me,  and  so  I  went  to  him,  showed 
my  book,  and  asked  him  to  teach  me  the  letters.  He 
told  their  names,  and  went  over  the  Avhole  alphabet  with 
me  three  times.  By  this  assistance  I  learned  a  few  more 
of  the  letters,  so  that  I  could  remember  them  after- 
wards when  I  sat  down  alone  and  tried  to  call  them 
over.  I  could  now  pick  out  and  name  five  or  six  of  the 
letters  in  any  part  of  the  book.  I  felt  then  that  I  was 
getting  along,  and  the  consciousness  that  I  was  making 
progress,  though  slow  and  j>ainful,  was  joy  and  hope 
to  my  sorrowing  heart,  such  as  I  never  felt  before.     I 


18       NAREATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

could  not  with  safety  go  to  the  bake-house,  as  there  I 
was  exposed  to  detection  by  the  sudden  entrance  of  cus- 
tomers or  idlers.  I  wanted  to  get  a  teacher  who  would 
give  me  a  little  aid  each  day,  and  now  I  set  about  secur- 
ing this  object.  As  kind  Providence  would  have  it,  I 
easily  succeeded,  and  on  this  wise  :  A  little  boy,  Hiram 
Bricket,  ten  years  old,  or  about  that  age,  came  along 
by  the  store  one  day,  on  his  way  home  from  school, 
while  my  master  was  gone  home  to  dinner,  and  James 
was  in  the  front  part  of  the  store.  I  beckoned  to  Hi- 
ram to  come  round  to  the  back  door ;  and  with  him  I 
made  a  bargain  to  meet  me  each  dav  at  noon,  when  I 
was  allowed  a  little  while  to  get  my  dinner,  and  to  give 
me  instruction  in  reading.  I  was  to  give  him  six  cents  a 
week.  I  met  him  the  next  day  at  his  father's  stable, 
the  place  agreed  upon  for  our  daily  meeting  ;  and,  go- 
ing into  one  of  the  stalls,  the  noble  little  Hiram  gave 
me  a  thorough  lesson  In  the  alphabet.  I  learned  it 
nearly  all  at  that  time,  with  what  study  I  could  give  it 
by  stealth  during  the  day  and  night.  And  then  again 
I  felt  lifted  up  and  happy. 

I  was  permitted  to  enjoy  these  advantages,  however, 
but  a  short  time.  A  black  boy,  belonging  to  Hiram's 
father,  one  day  discovered  our  meeting  and  what  we 
were  doing.  He  told  his  master  of  it,  and  Hiram  was 
at  once  forbidden  this  employment.  I  had  then  got 
along  so  that  I  was  reading  and  spelling  in  words  of 
two  syllables.  My  noble  little  teacher  was  very  patient 
and  faithful  with  me,  and  jny  days  were  passing  away 
In  very  great  happiness  under  the  consciousness  that  I 
was  learning  to  read.  I  felt  at  night,  as  I  went  to  my 
rest,  that  I  was  really  beginning  to  be  a  man,  preparing 
myself  for  a  condition  in  life  better  and  higher,  and 
happier  than  could  belong  to  the  Ignorant  slave.  And 
In  this  blessed  feeling  I  found,  waking  and  sleeping,  a 
most  precious  happiness. 

After  I  was  deprived  of  my  kind  little  teacher,  I 
plodded  on  the  best  way  I  could  myself,  and  in  this  way 
I  got  into  words  of  five  syllables.   I  got  some  little  time 


NAERATIVE  OF  A  EEFUGEE  SLAVE.       19 

to  study  by  daylight  in  the  morning,  before  any  of  my 
master's  family  had  risen.  I  got  a  moment's  opportu- 
nity at  noon,  and  sometimes  at  night.  During  the  day 
I  was  in  the  back  store  a  good  deal,  and  whenever  I 
thought  I  could  have  five  minutes  to  myself,  I  would 
take  my  book  and  try  to  learn  a  little  in  reading  and 
spelling.  If  I  heard  James,  or  master  Jones,  or  any 
customer  coming  in,  I  would  drop  my  book  among  the 
barrels,  and  pretend  to  be  very  busy  shovelling  the  salt 
or  doing  some  other  work.  Several  times  I  came  very 
near  being  detected.  My  master  suspected  something, 
because  I  was  so  still  in  t\^  back  room,  and  a  number 
of  times  he  came  very  slily  to  see  what  I  was  about. 
But  at  such  times  I  ^vas  always  so  fortunate  as  to  hear 
his  tread  or  see  his  shadow  on  the  wall  in  time  to  hide 
away  my  book. 

When  I  had  got  along  to  words  of  five  syllables,  1 
went  to  see  a  colored  friend,  Ned  Cowan,  whom  I  knew 
I  could  trust.  I  told  him  I  was  trying  to  learn  to  read, 
and  asked  him  to  help  me  a  little.  He  said  he  did  not 
dare  to  give  me  any  instruction,  but  he  heard  me  read 
a  few  words,  and  then  told  me  I  should  learn  if  I  would 
only  persevere  as  nobly  as  I  had  done  thus  far.  I  told 
him  how  I  had  got  along,  and  what  difficulties  I  had 
met  with.  He  encouraged  me,  and  spoke  very  kindly 
of  my  efforts  to  improve  my  condition  by  getting  learn- 
ing. He  told  me  I  had  got  along  far  enough  to  get  an- 
other book,  in  which  I  could  learn  to  write  the  letters, 
as  well  as  to  read.  He  told  me  where  and  how  to  pro- 
cure this  book.  I  followed  his  directions,  and  obtained 
another  spelling-book  at  Worcester's  store,  in  Wilming- 
ton. Jacob  showed  me  a  little  about  writing.  He  set 
me  a  copy,  first  of  straight  marks.  I  now  got  me  a 
box  which  I  could  hide  under  my  bed,  some  ink,  pens, 
and  a  bit  of  candle.  So,  when  I  went  to  bed,  I  pulled 
my  box  out  from  under  my  cot,  turned  it  up  on  end, 
and  began  my  first  attempt  at  writing.  I  worked  away 
till  my  candle  was  burned  out,  and  then  laid  down  to 
sleep.     Jacob  next  set  me  a  copy  which  he  called  pot 


20       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

hooks  ;  then,  the  letters  of  the  alphabet.  These  letters 
were  also  in  my  new  speUing-book,  and  according  to 
Jacob's  directions,  I  set  them  before  me  for  a  copy,  and 
wrote  on  these  exercises  till  I  could  form  all  the  letters 
and  call  them  by  name.  One  evening  I  wrote  out  my 
name  in  large  letters— THOMAS  JONES.  This  I 
carried  to  Jacob,  in  a  great  excitement  of  happiness, 
and  he  warmly  commended  me  for  my  perseverance  and 
diligence. 

About  this  time,  I  was  at  the  store  early  one  morn- 
ing, and,  thinking  I  was  safe  from  all  danger  for  a  few 
minutes,  had  seated  myself  in*the  back  store,  on  one  of 
the  barrels,  to  study  in  my  precious  spelling-book. 
While  I  was  absorbed  in  this  happy  enterprise,  my  mas- 
ter came  in,  much  earlier  than  usual,  and  I  did  not  hear 
him.  He  came  directly  into  the  back  store.  I  saw  his 
shadow  on  the  wall,  just  in  time  to  throw  my  book  over 
in  among  the  barrels,  before  he  could  see  what  it  was, 
although  he  saw  that  I  had  thrown  something  quickly 
away.  His  suspicion  was  aroused.  He  said  that  I  had 
been  stealing  something  out  of  the  store,  and  fiercely 
ordered  me  to  get  what  I  threw  away  just  as  he  was 
coming  in  at  the  door.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation, 
I  determined  to  save  my  precious  book  and  my  future 
opportunities  to  learn  out  of  it.  I  knew  if  my  book 
was  discovered  that  all  was  lost,  and  I  felt  prepared  for 
any  hazard  or  suffering  rather  than  give  up  my  book 
and  my  hopes  of  improvement.  So  I  replied  at  once 
to  his  questions,  that  I  had  not  thrown  any  thing  away; 
that  I  had  not  stolen  anything  from  the  store  ;  that  I 
did  not  have  anything  in  my  hands  which  I  could  throw 
away  when  he  came  in.  My  master  declared  in  a  high 
passion,  that  I  was  lying,  and  ordered  me  to  begin  and 
roll  away  the  barrels.  This  I  did  ;  but  managed  to 
keep  the  book  slipping  along  so  that  he  could  not  see 
it,  as  he  stood  in  tlie  door-way.  He  charged  me  again 
with  stealing  and  throwing  something  away,  and  I 
again  denied  the  charge.  In  a  great  rage,  he  got  down 
his  long,  heavy  cow-hide,  and  ordered  me  to  strip  off 


NAEEATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       21 

my  jacket  and  shirt,  saying,  with  an  oath,  "I  will  make 
you  tell  me  Avhnt  it  was   you   had  when  I  came."     I 
stripped  myself,  and  came  forward,  according  to  hk  di- 
rections, at  the  same  time  denying  his  charge  with  great 
earnestness  of  tone,  and  look,  and  manner.     He  cut  me 
on  my  naked  back,  perhaps  thirty  times,  with  great  se- 
verity, making  the  blood  flow  freely.    He  then  stopped, 
and  asked  me  what  I  had  thrown  away  as  he  came  in. 
I  answered  again  that  I  had  thrown  nothing  away.  He 
swore   terribly  ;  said   he  was  certain  I  was  lying,  and 
declared  he  would  kill  me  if  I  did  not  tell  him  the  truth. 
He  whipped  me  the  second  time  with  greater  severity, 
and  at  greater  length  than  before.      He  then  repeated 
his  question,  and  I  answered   again  as  before.     I  was 
determined  to  die,  if  I  could  possibly  bear  the  pain, 
rather  than  give  up  my  dear  book.     "^He  whipped  me 
the  third  time,  with  the  same  result  as  before,  and  then 
seizing   hold    of   my    shoulders,  turned   me   round  as 
though  he  would  inflict  on  my  quivering  flesh  still  an- 
other scourging,  but  he  saw  the  deep  gashes  he  had  al- 
ready made,  and  the  blood  already  flowing  under  his 
cruel  infliction  ;  and  his  stern  purpose  failed  him.     He 
said,  "Why,  Tom,  I  didn't  think  1  had  cut  you  so  bad," 
and  saying  that,  he  stopped,  and  told  me  to  put  on  my 
shirt  again.  ^    I  did  as  he  bade  me,  although  my  coarse 
shirt  touching  my  raw  back  put  me  to  a  cruel  pain. 
He  then  went  out,  and  I  got  my  book  and  hid  it  safely 
away  before  he  came  in  again.       When  I  went  to  the 
house,  my  wounds  had  dried,  and  I  was  in  an  agony  of 
pain.    My  mistress  told  the  servant  girl,  Kachel,  to  help 
me  off  with  my  shirt,  and  to  wash  my  wounds  for  me, 
and  put  on  to  them  some  sweet  oil.    The  shirt  was  dried 
to  my  back  so  that  it  could  not  be  got  off  without  tear- 
ing oflT  some  of  the  skin  with  it.      The  pain,  upon  do- 
ing this,  was  greater  even  than  I  had  endured  from  my 
cruel  whipping.      After  Rachel  had  got  my  shirt  ofl; 
my  mistress  askod  me  what  I  had  done  for  which  my 
master  had  whipped  me  so  severely.     I  told  her  he  had 
accused  me  of  steahng  when  I  had  not,  and  then  had 
whipped  me  to  make  me  own  it. 


22       NARRATIVE  OP  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

While  Rachel  was  putting  on  the  sweet  oil  my  mas- 
ter came  in,  and  I  could  liear  mistress  scolding  him  for 
giving  me  such  an  inhuman  beating,  when  I  had  done 
nothing.  He  said  in  reply,  that  Tom  was  an  obstinate 
liar,  and  that  was  the  reason  why  he  had  whipped  me. 

But  I  got  well  of  my  mangled  back,  and  my  book 
was  still  left.     This  was  my  best,  my  constant  friend. 
With  great  eagerness,  I    snatched  every  moment  I 
could  get,  morning,  noon  and  night,  for  study.     I  had 
begun  to  read  ;  and,  oh,  how  I  loved  to  study,  and  to 
dwell  on  the  thoughts  which  I  gained   from  reading. 
About  this  time,  I  read  a  piece  in  my  book  about  God. 
It  said  that  "  God,  who  sees  and  knows  all  our  thoughts, 
loves  the  good  and  makes  them  happy  ;  while  he  is 
angry  with  the  bad,  and  will  punish  them  for  all   their 
sins."     This  made  me  feel  very  unhappy,  because  I  was 
sure  I  was  not  good  in  the  sight  of  God.     I  thought 
about  this,  and  could'nt  get  it  out  of  my  mind  a  single 
hour.     So  I  went  to  James  Galley,  a  colored  man,  who 
exhorted  the  slaves  sometimes  on  Sunday,  and  told  him 
my  trouble,  asking,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  "     He  told  me 
about  Jesus,  and  told  me  I  must  pray  the  Lord  to  for- 
give me  and  help  me  to  be  good  and  happy.     So  I 
went  home,  and  went  down  cellar  and  prayed,  but  I 
found  no  relief,  no  comfort  for  my  unhappy  mind.     I 
felt  so  bad  that  I  could  not  study  my  book.     My  mas- 
ter saw  that  I  looked  very  unhappy,  and  he  asked  me 
what  ailed  me.     I  did  not  dare  now  to  tell  a  lie,  for  I 
wanted  to  be  good,  that  I  might  be  happy.     So  I  told 
my  master  just  how  it  was  with  me  ;  and  then  he  swore 
terribly  at  me,  and  said  he  would  whip  me  if  I  did  not 
give  over  praving.     He  said  there  was  no  heaven  and 
no  hell,  and  that  Christians  were  all  hypocrites,  and 
that  there  was  nothing  after  this  life,  and  that  he  would 
not  permit  me  to  go  moping  round,  praying  and   going 
to  the  meetings.     I  told  him  I  could  not  help  praying, 
and  then  he  cursed  me  in  a  great  passion,  and  declared 
he  would  whip  me  if  he  knew  of  my  going  on  any  more 
in  that  foolish  way.     The  next  night  I  was  to  a  meet 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       23 

ing,  which  was  led  by  Jack  Gammon,  a  free  colored 
man,  and  a  class  leader  in  the  Methodist  Church.  I 
was  so  much  overcome  by  my  feelings,  that  I  staid  very 
late.  They  prayed  for  me,  but  I  did  not  yet  find  any 
relief ;  I  was  still  very  unhappy.  The  next  morning, 
my  master  came  in,  and  asked  me  if  I  went  the  night 
before  to  the  meeting.  I  told  him  the  truth.  He 
said,  "  didn't  I  tell  you  1  would  whip  you  if  you  went 
nigh  these  meetings,  and  did  n't  I  tell  you  to  stop  this 
foolish  praying  ?  "  I  told  him  he  did,  and  if  he  would, 
why,  he  might  whip  me,  but  still  I  could  not  stop  pray- 
ing, because  I  wanted  to  be  good,  that  I  might  be  hap- 
py and  go  to  heaven.  This  reply  made  my  master 
very  angry.  With  many  bitter  oaths,  he  said  he  had 
promised  me  a  whipping,  and  now  he  should  be  as  good 
as  his  word.  And  so  he  was.  He  whipped  me,  and 
then  forbade,  with  bitter  threatenings,  my  praying  any 
more,  and  especially  my  going  again  to  meeting.  This 
was  Friday  morning.  I  continued  to  pray  for  comfort 
and  peace.  The  next  Sunday  I  went  to  meeting.  The 
minister  preached  a  sermon  on  being  born  again,  from 
the  words  of  Jesus  to  Nicodemus.  All  this  alone 
deepened  my  trouble  of  mind.  I  returned  home  very 
unhappy.  Collins,  a  free  man  of  color,  was  at  the 
meeting,  and  told  my  master  that  I  was  there.  So,  on 
Monday  morning  my  master  whipped  me  again,  and 
^once  more  forbade  my  going  to  meetings  and  praying. 
The  next  Sunday  there  was  a  class  meeting,  led  by 
Binney  Pennison,  a  colored  free  man.  I  asked  my 
master,  towards  night,  if  I  might  go  out.  I  told  him  I 
did  not  feel  well.  I  wanted  to  go  to  the  class  meeting. 
Without  asking  me  where  I  was  going,  he  said  I  might 
go.  I  went  to  the  class.  I  staid  very  late,  and  I  was 
so  overcome  by  my  feelings,  that  I  could  not  go  home 
that  night.  So  they  carried  me  to  Joseph  Jones'  cabin, 
a  slave  of  INIr.  Jones.  Joseph  talked  and  prayed  with 
me  nearly  all  night.  In  the  morning  I  went  home  as 
soon  as  it  was  light,  and,  for  fear  of  master,  I  asked 
Nancy,  one  of  the  slaves,  to  go  up  into  mistress's  room 


24       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

and  get  the  store  key  for  me,  that  I  might  go  and  open 
itjse  store.     My  master  told  her  to  go  back  and  tell  me 
to  come  up.     I  obeyed  with  many  fears.      My  m.aster 
asked  me  where  I  had  been  the  nio;ht  before.     I  told 
him  the  whole  truth.     He  cursed  me  again,  and  said  he 
should  whip  me  for  my  obstinate  disobedience  ;  and  he 
declared  he  would  kill  me  if  I  did  not  promise  to  obey 
him.     He  refused  to  listen  to  my  mistress,   who  was  a 
professor,  and  who  tried  to  intercede  for  me.     And, 
just  as  soon  as  he  had  finished   threatening   me  with 
what  he  would  do,  he  ordered  me  to  take  the  key  and 
go  and  open  the  store.     When  he  came  into  the   store 
that  morning,  two  of  his  neighbors,  Julius  Dumbiven, 
and  McCauslin,  came  in  too.    He  called  me  up  and  ask- 
ed me  ao;ain  where  I  staid  last  nio;ht.     I  told  him  with 
his  boy,  Joseph.     He  said  he  knew  that  was  a  lie  ;  and 
he  immediately  sent  off  for  Joseph  to  confirm  his  sus- 
picions.    He  ordered  me  to  strip  off  my  clothes,  and, 
as  I  did  so,  he  took  down  the  cow-hide,  heavy  and  stiff 
with  blood  which  he  had  before  drawn  from  my  body 
with  that  cruel  weapon,  and  which  was  congealed  upon 
it.     Dumbiven  professed  to  be  a  Christian,  and  he  now 
came  forward,  and  earnestly  interceded  for  me,  but  to 
no  purpose,  and  then  he   left.      McCauslin   asked  my 
master,  if  he  did  not  know  that  a  slave  was  worth 
more  money  after  he  became  pious  than  he  was  before. 
And  why  then,  he  said,  should  you  forbid  Tom  going 
to  meetings  and  praying  ?      He   replied,   that  religion 
was  all  a  damned  mockery,  and  he   was  not  going  to 
have    any   of  his   slaves   praying  and  whining   round 
about  their  souls.     McCauslin  then  left.     Joseph  came 
and  told  the  same  story  about  the  night  before  that  I 
had  done ;  and  then  he  began  to  beg  master  not  to 
whip  me.     He  cursed  him  and  drove  him  off.  He  then 
whipped  me  with  great  severity,  inflicting  terrible  pain 
at  every  blow  upon  my  quivering  body,  which  was  still 
very  tender  from  recent  lacerations.     My  suffering  was 
so  great,  that  it  seemed  to  me  I  should  die.     He  paused 
at  length,  and  asked  me  would  I  mind  him  and  stop 


NARRATIVE  OP  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       25 

praying.     I  told  him  I  could  not  promise  him  not  to 
pray  any  more,  for  I  felt  that  I   must  and  should  pray 
as  long  as  I  lived.      "Well,  then,  Tom,"  he  said,  "I 
swear  that  I  will  whip  you  to  death."     I  told  him  I 
could  not  help  myself,  if  he  was  determined  to  kill  me, 
but  that  1  must  pray  while  I  lived.     He  then  began  to 
whip  me  the  second  time,  but  soon  stopped,  threw  down 
the  bloody  cowhide,  and  told  me  to  go  wash  myself  in 
the  river,  just  back  of  the  store,  and  then  dress  myself, 
and  if  I  was  determined  to  be  a  fool,  why,  I  must  be 
one.      My  mistress  now  interceded  earnestly  for  me 
with  my  cruel  master.      The  next  Sabbath  was  love 
feast,  and  I  felt  very  anxious  to  join  in  that  feast.  This 
1  could  not  do  without  a  paper  from  my  master,  and  so 
1  asked  mistress  to  help  me.      She    advised  me  to  be 
patient,  and   said  she  would  help  me  all   she  could. 
Master  refused  to  give  any  paper,  and  so  I  could  not 
jom  in  the  love  feast  the  next  day. 

On  the  next  Friday  evening,  I  went  to  the  prayer 
meeting.  Jack  Cammon  was  there,  and  opened  the 
meeting  with  prayer.  Then  Binney  Pennison  gave 
out  the  sweet  hymn,  which  begins  in  these  words : 


«t 


Come  ye  sinners,  poor  and  needy, 
Weak  and  wounded,  sick  and  sore.'' 


I  felt  that  it  all  applied  most  sweetly  to  my  condition, 
and  I  said  in  my  heart,  /will  come  now  to  Jesus,  and 
trust  in  him.  So  when  those  who  felt  anxious  were 
requested  to  come  forward  and  kneel  within  the  altar 
for  prayer,  /  came  and  knelt  down.  While  Jacob 
Cammon  was  praying  for  me,  and  for  those  who  knelt 
by  my  side,  my  burden  of  sorrow,  which  had  so  lono" 
weighed  me  down,  was  removed.  I  felt  the  glory  ol" 
God's  love  warming  my  heart,  and  making  me  very 
happy.  I  shouted  aloud  for  joy,  and  tried  to  tell  all 
my  poor  slave  brothers  and  sisters,  who  were  in  the 
house,  what  a  dear  Saviour  I  had  found,  and  how  happy 
I  felt  in  his  precious  love.  Binney  Pennison  asked  me 
if  I  could  forgive  my  master.  I  told  him  I  could,  and 
2 


26       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

did,  and  that  I  could  pray  God  to  forgive  liim,  too,  and 
make  liim  a  2;ood  man.  He  asked  me  if  I  could  tell 
my  master  of  tbe  change  in  my  feelings.  I  told  him  I 
should  tell  him  in  the  morning.  "  And  what,"  he  said, 
"  will  you  do  if  he  whips  you  still  for  praying  and 
going  to  meeting  ?  "  I  said  I  Avill  ask  Jesus  to  help 
me  to  bear  the  pain,  and  to  forgive  my  master  for  being 
so  wicked.  He  then  said,  "  Well,  then.  Brother 
Jones,  I  beheve  that  you  are  a  Christian." 

A  good  many  of  us  went  from  the  meeting  to  a 
brother's  cabin,  where  we  began  to  express  our  joy  in 
happy  songs.  The  palace  of  General  Dudley  was  only 
a  little  way  off,  and  he  soon  sent  over  a  slave  with 
orders  to  stop  our  noise,  or  he  would  send  the  patrolers 
upon  us.  We  then  stopped  our  singing,  and  spent  the 
remainder  of  the  night  in  talking,  rejoicing  and  pray- 
ino-.  It  was  a  night  of  very  great  happiness  to  me. 
The  contrast  between  my  feelings  then,  and  for  many 
weeks  previous,  was  very  great.  Now,  aU  was  bright 
and  joyous  in  my  relations  towards  my  precious  Saviour. 
I  felt  certain  that  Jesus  was  my  Saviour,  and  in  this 
blessed  assurance  a  flood  of  glory  and  joy  filled  my 
happy  soul.  But  this  sweet  night  passed  away,  and, 
as  the  morning  came,  I  felt  that  I  must  go  home,  and 
bear  the  slave's  heavy  cross.  I  went,  and  told  my  mis- 
tress the  blessed  change  in  my  feelings.  She  promised 
me  what  aid  she  could  give  me  with  my  master,  and 
enjoined  upon  me  to  be  patient  and  very  faithful  to  his 
interest,  and,  In  this  way,  I  should  at  length  wear  out 
his  opposition  to  my  praying  and  going  to  meeting. 

I  went  down  to  the  store  in  a  very  hnppy  state  of 
mind.  I  told  James  my  feelings.  He  called  me  a 
fool,  and  said  master  would  be  sure  to  whip  me.  I 
told  him  I  hoped  I  should  be  able  to  bear  it,  and  to  for- 
give master  for  his  cruelty  to  me.  Master*  came  down, 
talked  with  me  a  while,  and  told  me  he  should  whip  me 
because  I  had  disobeyed  him  in  staying  out  all  night. 
He  had  told  me  he  should  Avhip  me  if  ever  I  did  so,  and 
he  should  make  every  promise  good.  So  I  began  to 
take  off  my  clothes.      He  called  me  a  crazy  fool,  and 


NAREATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       27 

told  me  to  keep  my  clothes  on  till  he  told  me  take  them 
ott.     He  whipped  me  over  my  jacket ;  but  I  enjoyed  so 
much  peace  of  mind  that  I  scarcely  felt  the  cow-hide 
ihis  was  the  last  whipping   that  Mr.  Jones  inflicted 
upon  me. 

I  was  then  nearly  eighteen  years  old.     I  waited  and 
begged  for  a  paper  to  join  the  church  six  months  before 
1  could  get  It.     But  all  this  time  I  was  cheerful,  as  far 
as  a  slave  can  be,  and  very  earnest  to  do  all  I  could  do 
tor  my  master  and  mistress.  I  was  resolved  to  convince 
them  that  L  was  happier  and  better  for  being  a  Chris- 
tian;  and  my  master  at  last  acknowledged  that  he  could 
not  hnd  any  fault  with  my  conduct,  and  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  find  a  more  faithful  slave  than  I  was  to  him. 
And  so,  at  last,  he  gave  me  a  paper  to  Ben  English,  the 
leader  of  the   colored  members,   and  I  joined  the  love 
least   and  was  taken  into    the  church  on  trial  for  six 
months.     I  was  put  into    Billy  Cochrane's  class.     At 
the  expiration  of  six  months,  I  was  received  into  the 
Church  m  fuU  fellowship,  Quaker  Davis'  class.     I  re- 
mained there  three  years.  My  master  was  much  kinder 
after  this  time  than  he  had  ever  be'en  before  ;  audi  was 
allowed  some  more  time  to  myself  than  I  had  been  be- 
tore.     I  pursued  my  studies  as  far  us  I  could,  but  I  soon 
tound  the  utter  impossibility  of  carrying  on  my  studies 
as  1  wished  to  do.       I  was  a  slave,  and  all  avenues  to 
real  improvement  I  found  guarded  with  jealous  care  and 
cruel  tenacity  against  the  despised  and  desolated  bond- 
man. 

I  still  felt  a  longing  desire  to  improve,  to  be  free,  but 
the  conviction  was  getting  hold  of  my  soul  that  I  was 
only  struggling  in  vain  when  seeking  to  elevate  myself 
mto  a  manly  and  happy  position.  And  now  my  mind 
was  fast  sinking  into  despair.  I  could  read  and  write, 
and  often  enjoyed  much  happiness  in  poring  over  the 
very  few  books  I  could  obtain  ;  and  especially^  at  times, 
I  tound  great  peace  in  reading  my  old  worn  Testament. 
But  I  wanted  now  that  hope  which  had  filled  my  mind 
with  such  joy  when  I  first  began  to  learn  to  read.  I 
found  much  happiness  in  prayer.      But  here,  also,  my 


28       NAEEATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

mind  labored  In  sadness  and  darkness  much  of  the  time. 
I  read  in  my  Testament  that  Jesus  came  from  the  bright 
heaven  of  his  glory  into  this  selfish  and  cruel  world  to 
seek  and  to  save  the  lost.  1  read  and  pondered  with 
deep  earnestness  on  the  blessed  rule  of  heavenly  love 
which  Jesus  declared  to  be  the  whole  of  man's  duty  to 
his  fellow  :  each  to  treat  his  brother  as  he  would  be 
treated.  I  thought  of  the  command  given  to  the  fol- 
lowers of  the  loving  Savior,  to  teach  all  nations  to  obey 
the  blessed  precepts  of  the  gospel.  I  considered  that 
eighteen  hundred  years  had  gone  by  since  Jesus  plead 
for  man's  redemption  and  salvation,  and,  going  up  to 
heaven,  had  left  His  work  of  mercy  to  be  finished  by 
His  children,  and  then  I  thought  that  I  and  thousands 
of  my  brothers  and  sisters,  loving  the  Lord  and  pressing 
on  to  a  blessed  and  endless  home  in  His  presence,  were 
slaves — branded,  whipped,  chained  ;  deeply,  hopelessly 
degraded, — thus  degraded  and  outraged,  too,  in  a  land 
of  Bibles  and  Sabbaths  and  Churches,  and  by  professed 
followers  of  the  Lord  of  Love.  And  often,  such 
thoughts  were  too  much  for  me.  In  an  agony  of  de- 
spair, I  have  at  times  given  up  prayer  and  hope  together, 
believing  that  my  master's  words  were  true,  that  "  re- 
ligion is  a  cursed  mockery,  and  the  Bible  a  lie."  May 
God  forgive  me  for  doubting,  at  such  times,  His  justice 
and  love.  There  was  but  one  thing  that  saved  me  from 
going  at  once  and  fully  into  dark  infidelity,  when  such 
agony  assailed  my  bleeding  heart, — the  memory  of  sea- 
son's of  unspeakable  joy  in  prayer,  when  Love  and 
Faith  were  strong  in  my  heart.  The  sweet  remem- 
brance of  these  dear  hours  would  draw  me  back  to  Je- 
sus and  to  peace  in  his  mercy.  Oh  that  all  true  Chris- 
tians knew  just  how  the  slave  feels  in  view  of  the  reli- 
gion of  this  country,  by  whose  sanction  men  and  women 
are  bound,  branded,  bought  and  sold  ! 

About  this  time  my  master  was  taken  sick.  On  Sun- 
day he  was  prostrated  by  mortal  pains  ;  and,  on  Friday 
the  same  week  he  died.  He  left  fifteen  slaves  ;  I  was 
purchased  by  Owen  Holmes  for  $435.  I  was  then  in 
my  twenty-third  year.      I  had  just  j)assed  through  the 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       29 

darkest  season  of  despairing  agony  that  I  had  yet 
known.  This  came  upon  me  in  consequence  of  the  visit, 
which  I  have  dready  described,  to  my  dear  old  deso- 
late home.  About  this  time,  too,  I  entered  on  a  new 
and  distmct  period  of  life,  which  I  will  unfold  in  ano- 
ther chapter.  I  wUl  close  this  period  of  sorrow  and 
shame  with  a  few  lines  of  touchmg  Interest  to  my  mind. 

Who  shall  avenge  the  slave  ?  I  stood  and  cried ; 

The  eal-th,  the  earth,  the  echoing  sea  replied. 

I  turned  me  to  the  ocean,  but  each  wave  i 

Declined  to  be  the  avenger  of  the  slave. 

Who  shall  avenge  the  slave  ?  my  species  cried  ; 

The  winds,  the  flood,  the  lightnings  of  the  sky. 

I  turned  to  these,  from  them  one  echo  ran, 

The  right  avenger  of  the  slave  is  man. 

Man  was  my  fellow ;  in  his  sight  I  stood, 

Wept  and  besought  him  by  the  voice  of  blood. 

bternly  he  looked,  as  proud  on  earth  he  trod, 

ihen  said,  the  avenger  of  the  slave  is  God. 

I  looked  in  prayer  towards  Heaven,  a  while  'twas  still. 

And  then  methought,  God's  voice  replied,  I  will 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

I  enter  now  upon  a  new  development  of  wrongs  and 
woes  which  I,   as  a  slave,    was  called  to  under-o.     I 
must  go  back  some   two  or  three   years  from  thi  time 
when  ray  master  died,  and  I  was  sold  to  Owen  Holmes. 
1  he  bitterness  of  persecution  which  master  Jones  had 
iiept  up   against    me   so  long,    because  I  would  try  to 
serve  the  Lord,  had  passed  away.      I  was  permitted  to 
pray  and  go  to  our  meetings  without  molestation.     My 
master  laid  aside  his  terrible  severity  towards  me.  By 
his  treatment  to  me   afterwards,   he  seemec?  to  feel  that 
he  had  done  wrong   in  scourging  me  as  he  had  done, 
because  I  could  not  obey  his  wicked  command,  to  stop 
praying  and  keep  away  from  the  meetings.     For,  after 
the  time  of  my  joining   th^   Church,   he  allowed  me  to 
go  to  all  the  meetings,  and  granted  me  many  other  little 
.avors  which  I  had  never   before  received  from  him. 
About  this  time  I  began  to  feel  very  lonely.     I  wanted 


30       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

a  friend  to  whom  I  could  tell  my  story  of  sorrows,  of 
unsatisfied  longing,  of  new  and  fondly  cherished  plans. 
I  wanted  a  companion  whom  I  could  love  with  all  my 
warm  affections,  who  should  love  me  in  return  with  a 
true  and  fervent  heart,  of  whom  I  might  think  when 
toilmg  for  a  selfish,  unfeeling  master,  who  shall  dwell 
fondly  on  my  memory  when  we  were  separated  during 
the  severe  labors  of  the  day,  and  with  whom  I  might 
enjoy  the  blessed  happiness  of  social  endearments  after 
the  work  of  each  day  was  over.  My  heart  yearned  to 
have  a  home,  if  it  was  only  the  wretched  home  of  the 
unprotected  slave,  to  have  a  wife  to  love  me  and  to  love. 
It  seems  to  me  that  no  one  can  have  such  fondness  of 
love  and  such  intensity  of  desire  for  home  and  home 
aifections,  as  the  poor  slave.  Despised  and  trampled 
upon  by  a  cruel  race  of  unfeeling  men,  the  bondman 
must  die  In  the  prime  of  his  wretched  life,  if  he  finds  no 
refuge  In  a  dear  home,  where  love  and  sympathy  shall 
meet  him  from  hearts  made  sacred  to  him  by  his  own 
irrepressible  aflTectlon  and  tenderness  for  them.  And  so  I 
sought  to  love  and  win  a  true  heart  in  return.  I  did  this 
too,  with  the  full  knowledge  of  the  desperate  agony 
that  the  slave  husband  and  father  Is  exposed  to.  Had 
I  not  seen  this  In  the  anguish  of  my  own  parents  ?  Yea,  I 
saw  It  In  every  public  auction,  where  men  and  women 
and  children  were  brought  upon  the  block,  examined, 
and  bought.  I  saw  it  on  such  occasions,  in  the  hopeless 
agony  depicted  on  the  countenance  of  husband  and  wife 
there  separated  to  meet  no  more  in  this  cruel  world ; 
and  in  the  screams  of  wild  despair  and  useless  entreaty 
which  the  mother,  then  deprived  of  her  darling  child, 
sent  forth.  I  heard  the  doom  which  stares  every  slave 
parent  In  the  face  each  waking  and  sleeping  hour  of  an 
unhappy  life.  And  yet  I  sought  to  become  a  husband 
and  a  father,  because  I  felt  that  I  could  live  no  longer 
unloved  and  unloving.  I  was  married  to  Lucllla  Smith, 
the  slave  to  Mrs  Moore.  We  calledit  and  we  considered 
it  a  true  ma7'riage,  although  we  knew  well  that  mar- 
riage was  not  permitted  to  the  slaves  as  a  sacred  right 
of  the  loving  heart.      Lucllla  was  seventeen  years  old 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       31 

when  we  were  married.  I  loved  her  with  all  my  heart, 
and  she  gave  me  a  return  for  my  afFection  with  which  I 
was  contented.  Oh,  God  of  love,  thou  knowest  what 
happy  hours  we  have  passed  in  each  other's  society  in 
our  poor  cabin.  When  we  knelt  in  prayer,  we  never 
forgot  to  ask  God  to  save  us  from  the  misery  of  cruel 
separation,  while  life  and  love  were  our  portion.  Oh, 
how  we  have  talked  of  this  dreadful  fate,  and  wept  in 
mingling  sorrow,  as  we  thought  of  our  desolation,  if  we 
should  be  parted  and  doomed  to  live  on  weary  years, 
away  from  each  other's  dear  presence.  We  had  three 
dear  little  babes.  Our  fondness  for  our  precious  chil- 
dren increased  the  current  feeling  of  love  for  each  other, 
which  filled  our  hearts.  They  were  bright,  precious 
things,  those  little  babes  ;  at  least  so  they  seemed  to  us. 
Lucilla  and  I  were  never  tired  of  planning  to  improve 
their  condition,  as  far  as  might  be  done  for  slaves.  We 
prayed  with  new  fervency  to  our  Father  in  Heaven  to 
protect  our  precious  babes.  Lucilla  was  very  proud  of 
me,  because  I  could  read  and  write,  and  she  often  spoke 
of  my  teaching  our  dear  little  ones,  and  then  she  would 
say,  with  tears,  "  Who  knows,  Thomas,  but  they  may 
yet  bejTree  and  happy  V  Lucilla  was  a  valuable  slave 
to  her  mistress.  She  was  a  seamstress,  and  very  expert 
at  her  needle.  I  had  aconstant  dread  that  Mrs.  Moore, 
her  mistress,  would  be  in  want  of  money,  and  sell  my 
dear  wife.  We  constantly  dreaded  a  final  separation. 
Our  affection  for  each  other  was  very  strong,  and  this 
made  us  always  apprehensive  of  a  cruel  j^arting.  These 
fears  were  well  founded,  as  our  sorrowing  hearts  too  soon 
learned.  A  few  years  of  very  pure  and  constant  hap- 
piness for  slaves,  passed  away,  and  we  were  parted  to 
meet  but  once  again  till  we  meet  in  eternity.  Mrs. 
Moore  left  Wilmington,  and  moved  to  Newbern.  She 
carried  with  her  my  beloved  Lucilla  and  my  three 
children,  Annie,  four  years  old ;  Lizzie,  two  and  a  half 
years ;  and  our  sweet  little  babe,  Charlie.  She  remained 
there  eighteen  months.  And  oh,  how  lonely  and  dreary 
and  desponding  were  those  months  of  lonely  life  to  my 
crushed  heart  I       My  dear  wife   and  my  precioub  chil- 


32  NAERATIVE  OF  A  EEFTJGEE  SLAVE. 

dren  were  seventy-four  miles  distant  from  me,  carried 
away  from  me  in  utter  scorn  of  my  beseeching  words. 
I  was  tempted  to  put  an  end  to  my  wretched  life.  I 
thought  of  my  dear  family  by  day  and  by  night.  A 
deep  despair  was  in  my  heart,  such  as  no  one  is  called 
to  bear  in  such  cruel,  crushing  power  as  the  poor  slave, 
severed  forever  from  the  objects  of  his  love  by  the  cu- 
pidity of  his  brother.  But  that  dark  time  of  despair 
passed  away,  and  I  saw  once  more  my  wife  and  chil- 
dren. Mrs.  Moore  left  Newbern  for  Tuscaloosa,  Ala., 
and  passing  through  Wilmington  on  her  journey,  she 
spent  one  night  in  her  old  home.  That  night  I  passed 
with  my  wife  and  children.  Lucilla  had  pined  away 
under  the^  agony  of  our  separation,  even  more  than  I  had 
done.  That  night  she  wept  on  my  bosom,  and  we  min- 
gled bitter  tears  together.  Our  dear  children  were 
baptized  in  the  tears  of  agony  that  were  wrung  from 
our  breaking  hearts.  The  just  God  will  remember  that 
night  in  the  last  award  that  we  and  our  oppressors  are 
to  receive. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Moore  embarked  on  board 
the  packet.  I  followed  my  wife  and  children  to  the 
boat,  and  parted  from  them  without  a  word  of  farewell. 
Our  sobs  and  tears  were  our  only  adieu.  Our  hearts 
were  too  full  of  anguish  for  any  other  expression  of  our 
hopeless  woe.  I  have  never  seen  that  dear  family  since, 
nor  have  I  heard  from  them  since  I  parted  from  them 
there.  God  only  knows  the  bitterness  of  my  agony, 
experienced  in  the  separation  of  my  wife  and  children 
from  me.  The  memory  of  that  great  woe  will  find  a 
fresh  impression  on  my  heart  while  that  heart  shall 
beat.  How  will  the  gifted  and  the  great  meet  the  charge 
against  them  at  the  great  day,  as  the  judge  shall  say  to 
them,  in  stem  displeasure,  "I  was  sick,  destitute,  im- 
prisoned, helpless,  and  ye  ministered  not  unto  me  ;  for 
when  ye  slighted  and  despised  these  wretched,  pleading 
slaves,  ye  did  these  acts  of  scorn  against  me.  Depart 
ye  workers  of  iniquity." 

After  my  purchase  by  Owen  Holmes,  I  hired  my 
time  at  $ltiO  per  year,  paid  monthly.     I  rented  a  house 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       33 

of  Dr.  E.  J.  Desert.     I  worked,  loading  and  unloading 
vessels  that  came  into  Wilmington,  and  could  earn  from 
one  dollar  to  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  day.     While  my 
wife  and  family  were  spared  to  bless  my  'home  by  their 
presence  and  love,  I  was  comparatively  happy.     But  I 
found  then  that  the  agony  of  the  terrible  thought,  "  I 
am  a  slave,  ray  wife  is  a  slave,  my  precious  chikben  are 
slaves,''  grew  bitter  and  insupportable,  just  as  the  hap- 
pmess  in  the  society  of  my  beloved  home  became  more 
distmct  and  abounding.     And  this  one  cup  of  bitterness 
was  ever  at  my  lipa.      Hearts  of  kind  sympathy  and 
tender  pity,  did  I  not  drain  that  cup  of  bitter  woe  to  its 
very  dregs,  when  my  family    were   carried  off  into  re- 
turnless  exile,  and   I  was  left   a  heart  broken,  lonely 
man  I^    Can  you  be  still   inactive  while  thousands  are 
drmking  that  potion  of  despair  every  year  in  this  land 
of  schools  and  Bibles  ?     After  I  parted  from  my  family, 
I  continued  to  toil  on,  but  not  as  I  had  done  before. 
My  home  was  darker  than  the  holds  of  ships  in  which 
I  worked.      Its  light,  the  bright,  joyous  light  of  love 
and  sympathy  and  mutual  endearments,  was  quenched. 
Ah  me,  how  dark  it  left  my  poor  heart.     It  was  colder 
than  the  winter  wind  and  frost ;  the  warm  sunshine  was 
snatched  away  and  my  poor   heart  froze  in  its  bitter 
cold.     Its  gloom  was  deeper  than  the  prison  or  cave 
could  make  it.     Was  not  there  the  deserted  chairs  and 
beds,  once  occupied  by  the  objects  of  a  husband's  and  a 
father's  love  ?     Deserted  I      How,   and  Why  ?      The 
answer,  is  not  the  unqualified  condemnation  of  the  gov- 
ernment and  religion  of  this  land  ?     I  could  not  go  into 
my  cold,   dark,  cheerless    house ;  the  sight  of  its  de- 
serted room  was  despair  to  my  soul.     So  I  worked  on, 
taking  jobs  whenever  I  could  get  them,  and  working 
often  till  nearly  morning,  and  never  going  to  my  home 
for  rest  till  I  could  toil  no  more.     And  so  I  passed  four 
years,  and  I  began  to  feel  that  I  could  not  live  in  utter 
loneliness  any  longer.      My  heart  was  still  and  always 
yearning  for  affection  and   sympathy  and  loving  com- 
munion.     My  wife  was  torn  from  me.      I  had  ceased 
2* 


84       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

to  hope  for  another  meeting  with  her  in  this  world  of 
oppression  and    suffering  ;  so  I  sat  down  and  wrote  to 
Lucilla,  that  I  could   live   alone  no  longer,  and  saying 
to  her  the  sad  farewell,  which   we  could  not  say  when 
we  were  sundered.      I  asked  Mary  R.  Moore  to  come 
and  cheer  me  in  my  desolate   home.     She  became  my 
wife,  and,  thank  God,  she  has  been  rescued  from  slavery 
by  the  blessing  of  God  and  ray  efforts  to  save  her.    She 
is  now  my  wife,  and  she  is  with  me   to  day,   and  till 
death  parts  us,  secure  from   the  iron  hand  of  slavery. 
Three  of  our  dear  children   are  with  us,  too,  in  the  old 
Commonwealth.     I  cannot  say  they  are  in  v^free  land, 
for,  even  here,  in  the  city  of  Boston,  where  I  am  told,  is 
kept  the  old  cradle  of  liberty,  my  precious  children  are 
excluded  from  the  public  schools,  because  their  skin  is 
black.       Still,  Boston  is  better  than  Wilmington,  inas- 
much as  the  rulers  of  this  place  permit  me  to  send  my 
children  to  any  school  at  all.      After  my  second  mar- 
riage, I  hired  my  wife  of  her  master,  and  paid  for  her 
time,  $48  a  year,  for  three  years.     We  had  one  child 
while  Mary  was  a  slave.     That  child  is  still  in  chains. 
The  fourth  year,  by  the  aid  of  a  white  friend,  I  pur- 
chased my  wife  for  $350.      We  had  before  determined 
to  try  to  accomplish  this  enterprise  in  order  that  our 
dear  babes  might  be  free.      Besides  I  felt  that  I  could 
not  bear  another   cruel    separation   from  my  wife  and 
children.     Yet,  the  dread  of  it  was  strong  and  unceas- 
ing upon  my  mind.      So  we  made  a- box,  and,  through 
a  hole  in  the  top,  we  put  in  every  piece  of  money,  from 
five  cents  up  to  a  dollar,  that  we  could  save  from  our 
hard  earnings.      This    object  nerved  us  for  unceasing 
toil,  for   twenty  months    or  about  that  time.     What 
hopes  and  fears  beset  us   as   those  months  wore  away ! 
I  have  been  compelled  to  hide   that  box  in  a  hole  dug 
for  it,  when  I  knew  the  patrollers  were  coming  to  search 
my  cabin.     For  well  did  I  know,  if  they  found  my  box, 
I  should  be  penniless  again.     How  often  have  I  started 
and  turned  in   sudden   and   terrible    alarm,  as  I  have 
dropped  a  piece  of  money  into   my  box,  and  heard  its 
loud  ring  upon  the  coin  below,  lest  some  prowling  ene- 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       35 

my  should  hear  it,  and  steal  from  me  my  hoarded  trea- 
sure. And  how  often  have  I  started  up  in  my  sleep  as 
the  storm  has  beat  aloud  upon  my  humble  home,  with 
the  cry  of  unspeakable   agony   in  my  heart, — "  Then, 

0  God,  they  have  taken  my  box,  and  my  wife  and  babes 
are  still  slaves."  When  my  box  was  broken  open,  I 
still  lacked  a  little  of  the  $350  necessary  to  buy  my 
wife.  The  kind  friend  who  had  promised  to  aid  me  in 
the  contemplated  purchase,  made  up  the  deficiency,  and 

1  became  the  owner  of  my  wife.  We  had  three  chil- 
dren at  this  time,  and,  O,  how  my  crushed  heart  was 
uplifted  in  its  pride  and  joy,  as  I  took  them  in  my  arms 
and  thought  that  they  were  not  slaves."  These  three 
children  are  with  me  and  with  their  mother  now,  where 
the  slave's  chains  and  whips  are  heard  no  more.  Oh, 
how  sweet  is  freedom  to  man  !  But  doubly  dear  is  the 
consciousness  to  the  father's  heart,  made  bitter  in  its  in- 
curable woe  by  the  degradation  of  slavery,  that  his 
dear  child  is  never  to  be  a  slave  !  Would  to  God  the 
fathers  of  this  nation  were  all  possessed  of  a  true  con- 
sciousness of  these  things  ;  for  then,  surely,  they  would 
will  and  secure  the  immediate  ending  of  human  bon- 
dage. 

After  I  had  purchased  my  wife,  we  still  worked  hard 
and  saved  our  earnings  with  great  care,  in  order  to  get 
some  property  in  hand  for  future  use.  As  I  saved  my 
earnings,  I  got  a  white  man  whom  I  thought  my  friend 
(his  name  I  choose  to  keep  back  for  the  present,)  to  lay 
it  out  for  me.  In  this  way  I  became  the  owner  of  the 
cabin  in  which  I  lived,  and  two  other  small  houses,  all 
of  which  were  held  in  the  name  of  this  supposed  friend. 
He  held  them  in  his  own  name  for  me.  A  slave  can- 
not hold  property.  I  will  here  remark  that  I  was  de 
ceived  by  this  man  ;  and  when  I  ran  away  from  my 
chains,  after  sending  on  my  family,  I  was  compelled  to 
sacrifice  the  whole  of  this  property.  I  left  it,  because 
I  could  not  get  my  own  from  his  hands,  and  came  off 
entirely  destitute.  Thank  God,  /got  away,  and  now 
I  have  no  tears  to  shed  over  the  loss  of  my  houses. 

During  the  winter  of  1843-9,  a  kind  lady  came  and 


36       NARRATITE  OF  A  EEFUGEE  SLAVE. 

told  me  tliat  some  white  men  were  plotting  to  enslave 
my  wife  and  children  again.      She  advised  me  to  get 
them  off  to  the  free   States   as   quickly  and  secretly  as 
possible.     A  lawyer  of  Wilmington  told  me  they  were 
not  safe,  unless  emancipated  by  a  special  act  of  the  Le- 
gislature.    He  was  a  member  of  the  House,  and  tried 
to  get  through  the  House  a  bill  for  their  emancipation. 
But  there  was  so  much  ill    feeling  upon  this  question 
that  he  could  not  do  it.     The  Legislature  threw  it  aside 
at  once.     He  then  advised  me  to  get  them  off  to  the 
free  States  as  my  only  course  to  save  them.     This  I  de- 
termined to  do  if  possible.     I  kept  a  good  lookout  for  a 
vessel.     I  found  one,  and  made  a  bargain  with  the  cap- 
tain to  take  on  board  for  New  York  a  free  colored  wo- 
man and  her  three  children.     A  kind  friend  gave  me  a 
certificate  of  their  freedom  to  the  captain,  and  I  brought 
my  wife  and  children  on  board   at  night,  paid  the  cap- 
tain $25  for  their  fare,  and  staid  on  the  wharf  in  tortur- 
ing fear  till  about  sunrise,  when  I  saw  the  vessel  under 
way.     It  was  soon  out  of  sight.     When  I  went  home, 
threw  myself  on  my  knees,  and  poured  out  my  soul 
to  God,  to  carry  that  ship  and  its  precious  cargo  safely 
and  swiftly  on  to  a  free  haven,  and  to  guard  and  guide 
me  soon  to  a  free  home  with  my  beloved  family.     And 
so  I   kept  on,   praying,   working,    hoping,  pining,  for 
nearly  three  weeks,  when   I  received    the  happy  news 
that  my  dear  ones  were  safe  with  a  true-hearted  friend 
in  Brooklyn.     I  had  notified  him  beforehand  that  they 
were  coming  ;  and  now   the  good   and  glorious  news 
came  that  they  were   safe  with   Robert  H.  Cousins, 
where  the  slaveholders  could  trouble  them  no  more.    I 
had  arrangedwitliMary   when  she  left,  to  come  on  my- 
self as  soon  as  I  could  get  the  money  for  my  houses  and 
land.     She  was  to  write  to  me  as  though  she  had  gone 
to  New  York  on  a  visit,    intending  to  come  back,  and 
she  was  to  speak  of  New  York  as  if  she  did  not  like  it  at 
all.     I  knew  my  master  would  be  very  angry  when  he 
heard  she  had  gone  unbeknown  to  him,  and  I  thought 
he  would  demand  to  see  the  letters  my  wife  should  get 
friends  in  New  York  to  write  to  me  for  her  :  and  so  I 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       37 

made  ready  to  meet  and  quiet  his  suspicions,  while  I 
was  plotting  my  own  escape.  For  more  than  three 
months  I  tried  to  get  the  money,  or  part  of  it  for  my 
houses  ;  but  was  put  off  and  deceived,  till  I  found  I 
must  come  off  without  a  cent  of  the  property  I  had  tried 
so  hard  to  accumulate.  I  was  required  to  call  and  see 
my  master  every  day,  because  he  suspected  me  of  de- 
sign to  run  away.  He  was  taken  suddenly  sick,  and 
then  I  started  for  my  wife  and  children.  Before  I  give 
a  narrative  of  my  escape,  I  will  give  copies  of  the  let- 
ters which  passed  between  me  and  my  wife,  while  I  re- 
mained in  the  land  of  bondage  after  her  escape.  These 
letters  with  their  post  marks,  are  all  in  my  possession 
and  can  be  examined  by  any  one  who  may  doubt  their 
authenticity,  or  the  fidelity  with  which  they  are  here 
given.  The  kind  friend  who  has  written  this  narrative 
for  me,  has  corrected  some  mistakes  in  the  construc- 
tion and  spelling  of  these  letters,  and  some  he  has  left 
uncorrected.  He  has  also  omitted  some  repetitions  ; 
otherwise  they  are  given  as  exact  copies.  I  wrote  my 
own  letters  ;  my  wife  wrote  by  the  help  of  a  friend.  I 
give  all  my  letters,  and  the  two  from  my  wife  which 
I  was  able  to  keep.  The  following  was  written  soon 
after  my  wife  started  for  New  York. 

Wilmington,  N.  C,  July  11,  1849. 
My  Dear  Wife — I  write  these  few  lines  to  inform 
you  that  I  am  well,  and  hope  they  may  find  you  and 
the  children  well,  and  all  the  friends.  My  dear  wife, 
I  long  to  see  you  and  the  children  one  time  more  in 
this  world.  I  hope  to  see  you  all  soon.  Don't  get 
out  of  heart,  for  I  will  come  as  soon  as  I  can.  I  hope 
it  will  not  be  long,  for  God  will  be  my  helper,  and  I 
feel  he  will  help  me.  My  dear  wife  you  must,  pray 
for  me  that  God  may  help  me.  Tell  John  he  must  be 
a  good  boy  tiU  I  see  him.  I  must  not  forget  sister 
Chavis.  She  must  pray  for  me,  that  God  may  help 
me  come  out.  Tell  her  1  say  that  she  must  be  faithful 
to  God  ;  and  I  hope  dear  wife  you  will  be  faithful  to 
God.     Tell  sister  Chavis  that   Henry  will  be  out  soon, 


38  NAERATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  fiLAVE. 

and  he  wants  her  to  keep  a  good  heart  and  he  will  send 
money  out  to  her.  Tell  her  he  says  she  must  write  to 
him  as  soon  as  she  can,  for  he  will  not  stay  long  behind 
her.  As  soon  as  he  gets  his  money  he  will  come.  I 
hope  to  see  you  all  very  soon.  Tell  my  Brethering  to 
pray  for  me,  that  God  may  help  me  to  get  there  safe 
and  make  my  way  clear  before  me.  Help  me  by  your 
prayers,  that  God  may  be  with  me.  Tell  brother  Ro- 
bert H.  Cousins  that  he  must  pray  for  me  ;  for  I  long 
to  meet  him  one  time  more  in  this  world.  Sister  Tucker 
and  husband  give  their  love  to  you  and  Sister  Chavis, 
and  say  that  you  must  pray  for  them.  Dear  wife,  you 
may  look  for  me  soon.  But  what  way  I  will  come,  I 
can't  tell  you  now.  You  may  look  for  me  in  three 
weeks  from  now.  You  must  try  and  do  the  best  you 
can  till  I  come.  You  know  how  it  is  with  me,  and  how 
I  have  to  come.  Tell  the  Church  to  pray  for  me,  for 
I  hope  to  reach  that  land  if  I  live,  and  I  want  the 
prayers  of  all  God's  children.  I  can't  say  any  more  at 
this  time  ;  but,  I  remain  your  dear  husband,  till  death, 

THOMAS  JONES. 

P.  S. — Dear  wife,  I  want  you  to  make  out  that  you 
don't  like  New  York.  When  you  write  to  me  you 
must  say  so.     Do  mind  how  you  write. 

The  next  letter  was  written  before  I  had  received 
any  certain  intelligence  of  my  wife's  arrival  at  New 
York. 

Wilmington,  N.  C,  July  17,  1849. 

My  Dear  Wife — I  write  to  tell  you  I  am  well,  and 
I  hope  these  few  lines  will  find  you  and  the  children 
well.  I  long  to  see  you  all  one  time  more.  Do  pray 
for  me,  that  God  may  help  me  to  get  to  you  all.  Do  ask 
sister  to  pray  the  Lord  to  help  me.  I  will  trust  in  God, 
for  I  know  that  He  is  my  friend,  and  He  will  help  me. 
My  dear  wife,  tell  my  childi-en  I  say  they  must  be 
good  till  I  see  them  once  more.  Do  give  my  love  to 
Brother  R.  H.  Cousins,  and  tell  him  I  hope  to  meet 
him  in  two  or  three  weeks  from  now.  Then  I  can  tell 
him  all  I  want  to  say  to  him.     Tell  Sister  Chavis  I  say, 


NAEEATIYE  OF  A  EEFUGEE  SLAVE.       39 

do  not  come  back  to  this  place  till  I  come.      Her  hus- 
band says  he  wants  her  to    stay,  and  he  will  come  on 
soon.     My  dear  wife,  I  want  you  to  do  the  best  you 
can  till  I  come.      I  will  come  as  soon  as  I  can.     You 
and  sister  Chavis  must  live  together,  for  you  went  to- 
gether, and  you  must  try  to  stay  together.      Do  give 
my  love  to  sister  Johnson  and  husband,  and  all  of  my 
friends.     Ask  them  all  to  pray  for  me,  that  God  may 
be  with  me  in  all  that  I  do  to  meet  you  all  one  time 
more.     My  dear  wife  you  know   how  I  told  you,  you 
must  mind  how  you  write  your  letters.      You  must 
not  forget  to  write  as  if  you  did  not  like  New  York, 
and  that  you  will  come  home  soon.     You  know_  what  I 
told  you  to  do,  and  now   you   must  not  forget  it  when 
you  write.     I  will   send    you  some  money  in  my  next 
letter.     I  have  not  sold  my  houses  yet,  and  if  I  can't 
sell,  I  will  leave  them   all,   and  come  to  you  and  the 
children.     I  will  trust  in  that  God  who  can  help  the 
poor.     My  dear,  don't  forget  what  I  told  you  to  do 
when  you  write.      You  know  how  I  have  to  do.     Be 
careful  how  you  write.    I  hope  to  be  with  you  soon,  by 
the  help  of  God.     But,  above  all  things,  ask  all  to  pray 
for  me,  that  God  may  open  the  way   for  me  to  come 
safe.     I  hope  to  be  with   you   soon  by  the  help  of  the 
Lord.     Tell  them  if  1  never  come,  to  go  on,  and  may 
God  help  them  to  go  forth  to  glorious  war.     Tell  them 
to  se3  on  the  mountain  top  the  standard  of  God.^    Tell 
them  to  follow  their  Captain,  and  be  led  to  certain  vic- 
tory.    Tell  them  I  can  but  sing  with  my  latest  breath, 
happy,  if  I  may  to  the   last   speak   His  name,  preach 
Him  to  all,  and  cry,    in    death,   "  Behold  the  Lamb." 
Go  on,  my  dear  wife,  and  trust  in  God  fo."  all  thmgs. 
I  remain  your  husband,  THOMAS  JONES. 

Before  I  wrote  the  next,  I  received  the  happy  news 
that  my  wife  was  safe  with  Brother  Cousins. 

Wilmington,  N.  C,  July  25, 1849. 
My  Dear  Wife — Do  tell  my  children  they  must  be 
good  children  till  I  come    to  them  ;  and  you  my  dear 
wife,  must  do  the  best  you  can;  for  I  don't  know  how 


40       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

I  will  come,  but  I  will  do  the  best  I  can  for  you,  I  hope 
God  will  help  me,  for,  if  He  don't,  I  don't  know  what 
I  will  do.  My  dear  wife,  I  have  not  sold  my  houses 
yet,  but  I  will  do  the  best  I  can.  If  I  had  money  I 
would  leave  all  I  have  and  come,  for  I  know  the  Lord 
will  help  me.  It  is  for  want  of  money  that  I  can't  come. 
But  I  hope,  my  dear  wife,  the  Lord  will  help  me  out. 
Tell  Brother  Cousins  I  hope  he  and  aU  the  people  of 
God  will  pray  for  me ;  and  you,  my  dear  wife,  must 
not  forget  to  pray  for  me.  Ask  brother  Cousins,  if  he 
pleases,  to  put  my  children  to  some  school.  Dear  wife, 
you  know  the  white  people  will  read  your  letters  to 
me  ;  do  mind  how  you  write.  No  one  but  God  knows 
my  heart.  Do  pray  for  me.  I  remain  your  husband 
till  death.  THOMAS  JONES. 

P.  S. — My  dear  wife,  I  received  your  letter  the  24th 
of  July,  and  was  truly  glad  to  hear  you  arrived  safe  in 
New  York.  Please  tell  Brother  Cousins  I  will  write 
to  him  in  a  few  days,  and  I  will  send  you  some  money. 
My  dear  wife  do  mind  how  you  write.  You  must  not 
forget  I  am  in  a  slave  place,  and  I  can't  buy  myself  for 
the  money.  You  know  how  it  is,  and  you  must  tell 
brother  Cousins*  I  have  not  sold  yet,  but  if  I  can't 
sell,  I  will  come  some  how,  by  the  help  of  the  Lord. 
John  Plolmes  is  still  in  my  way.  I  want  you  to  write 
a  letter  and  say  in  it,  that  you  will  be  home  in  two 
months,  so  I  can  let  them  read  it,  for  they  think  I  wiU 
run  away  and  come  to  you.  So  do  mind  how  you 
write  for  the  Lord's  sake.  THOMAS  JONES. 

The  next  .letter  was  written  to  Sister  Chavis,  who 
went  on  to  New  York,  but  got  disheartened  and  came 
back  to  Wilmington. 

Wilmington,  N.  C,  Aug.  4,  1849. 

My  Dear  Sister — I  hope  to  see  you  in  a  few  days, 
and  all  my  friends.  I  hope,  dear  sister,  you  will  not 
forget  to  pray  for  me,  for  by  the  help  of  God,  I  will 
see  you  in  a  few  days.  Your  husband  is  coming  on 
soon,  but  I  will  be  on  before  him.  I  would  have  been 
on  before  now,  but  I  could  not  get  my  money.  I  have 
had  a  hard  time  to   get    money    to    leave   with.     I  am 


NAEEATIVE  OF  A  EETUGEE  SLAVE.       41 

sorry  to  hear   that   you   think  we  can't   get  a  living 
where  you  are.      My  clear  sister,  a  smart  man  can  get 
a  living  anywhere  in  the  world  if  he  try.     Don't  think 
we  can't  live  out  there,    for  I  know  God  will  help  us. 
You  know  God  has  promised    a  living  to  all  His  chil- 
dren.     Don't  forget  that  God  is  ever  present,  for  we 
must  trust  Him  till  death.     Don't  get  out  of  heart,  for 
I  know  we  can  live  out   there,    if  any  one  can.     You 
may  look  for  me   before  your   husband.      Don't  leave 
New  York  before  I  come,  for  you  know  what  I  told  you 
before  you  left  Wilmington.     If  you  come  back  to  this 
place  before  I  get  off,  it  will  make  it  bad  for  me.    You 
know  what  the  white  people  here  are.     Please  don't 
come  vet.     I  am  your  brother  in  the  Lord,  till  death. 
^  THOMAS  JONES. 

P.S. — I  sent  the  letter  you  wrote  to  Mr.  John  Eanks. 
I  thought  you  will  wait  for  a  letter  from  your  husband 
and  I  hope  you  will  be  better  satisfied  in  your  mind 
that  we  can  get  a  living  out  there.  Your  husband  has 
wrote  to  you  last  week  ;  I  hope  you  have  got  the  letter. 
Oh,  that  you  may  trust  in  God  every  day,  for  I  know 
God  is  your  friend,  and  you  must  pray  night  and  day, 
that  he  may  help  you.  I  long  to  see  you  one  time 
more  in  this  world.  We  went  into  the  new  Church  on 
the  9th  day  of  this  month.  God  was  with  us  on  that 
day,  and  we  had  a  good  time.  Though  my  time  with 
them  is  short,  I  hope  God  will  be  with  them,  and  may 
we  all  meet  in  the  kingdom  at  last.  So  pray  for  me, 
my  dear  sister.  Aunt  Narvey  has  been  dead  nearly 
four  weeks.  She  died  happy  in  the  Lord,  and  is  gone 
home  to  rest.  I  hope  we  may  meet  in  the  kingdom  at 
last.  Good  night,  my  dear  sister.  THOMAS  JONES. 

The  next  letter  is  to  my  wife  and  Brother  Cousins, 

and  explains  itself. 

Wilmington,  August  7,  1849.  ^ 

My  Dear  Wife — I  long  to  see  you  once  more  in 

this  world,  and  hope  it  will  not  be  very  long  before  I  am 

with  you.    I  am  trying,  my  dear  wife,  to  do  all  I  can  to 

get  to  you.      But  I  hope  you  will  not  forget  to  mind 


42  NARRATIVE  OF  A  RErtiaEE  SLAVE. 

how  you  write  to  me.  If  you  should  not  mind  how  you 
write,  you  will  do  me  great  harm.  You  know  I  told 
you  to  write  that  you  would  be  home  in  two  months,  or 
three  months  at  the  longest.  But  in  two  months  I  told 
them  you  would  be  home.  Now,  my  dear,  you  must 
mind,  and  don't  forget,  for  you  know  how  it  is  here  ;  a 
man  can't  say  that  his  soul  is  his  own,  that  is,  a  colored 
man.  So  do  mind  how  you  write  to  me.  Tell  Sister 
Chavis  I  say  she  must  write  to  me  ;  and  I  hope  soon  I 
will  write  my  last  letter.  I  will  let  you  know  in  my 
next  letter  how  all  things  are  with  me.  Dear  wife,  don't 
get  out  of  heart,  for  God  is  my  friend.  The  will  of 
God  is  my  sure  defence,  nor  earth  nor  hell  can  pluck 
me  thence,  for  God  hath  spoken  the  word.  My  dear 
wife,  in  reply  to  your  kind  letter,  received  the  second 
day  of  this  month,  I  have  wrote  these  few  lines.  I  hope 
you  will  pray  for  me,  your  dear  husband, 

THOMAS  JONES. 

P.  S. — ^To  Brother  Cousins. — ^IVIy  dear  Brother,  I 
hope  you  will  not  think  hard  of  me  for  not  writing  to 
you,  for  you  know  how  it  is  with  me  out  here.  God 
knows  that  I  would  write  to  you  at  any  time,  if  it  was 
not  for  some  things.  You  know  the  white  people  don't 
like  for  us  to  write  to  New  York.  Now,  let  me  ask 
your  prayers,  and  the  prayers  of  the  Church,  and  God's 
children,  that  I  may  see  you  all  soon.  I  know  that  God 
is  my  friend,  for  He  doth  my  burden  bear.  Though  I 
am  but  dust  and  ashes,  I  bless  God,  and  often  feel  the 
power  of  God.  Oh,  my  brother,  pray  for  me,  who  loves 
you  all,  for  I  have  found  of  late  much  comfort  in  the 
word  of  God's  love.  When  I  come  where  you  are,  in 
the  work  of  the  Lord,  and  I  hope  the  time  will  soon 
come  when  the  Gospel  will  be  preached  to  the  whole 
world  of  mankind.  Then  go  on,  dear  Brother,  and  do 
all  you  can  for  the  Lord.  I  hope  the  Lord  will  help 
me  to  get  where  you  are  at  work  soon.  Nothing  more, 
but  I  remain  your  brother  in  the  Lord, 

THOMAS  JONES. 

The  next  is  from  my  wife. 


NARRATIVE  OP  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE.       43 

Brooklyn,  Aug.  10,  1849. 
My  Dear  Husband— I  got  your  kind  letter  of  the 
23d  July,  and  rejoiced  to  hear  that  you  was  well,     i 
have  beeA  very  sick  myself,  and  so  has  Alexander  ;  but 
thanks  to  the  Lord,  these  lines  leave  me  and  the  chil- 
dren right  well.    I  hope  in  God  they  may  find  you  and 
my  son  and  my  mother,  and  all  enqmrmg  friends,  en- 
joying the  same  blessings.    My  dear  you  requested  me 
ind  Mrs.  Chavis  to  stay  together,  but  she  bas^taken 
other  people's  advice  beside  mine  and  Mr.  Cousin  s  and 
has  gone  away.     She  started  for  home  before  we  knew 
a  word  of  it.     She  left  me  on  the  eighth  of  this  month. 
Do  o-ive  my  love  to  Betsey  Webb  and  to  her  husband 
Tell'her  I  am  sorry  she  has  not  come  on  before  now.    i 
am  waiting  to  see  her  before  I  start  for  home      My 
dear  husband,  you  know  you  ought  to  send  me  sone^ 
money  to  pay  my  board.     You  know  I  don  t  love  to 
leave  in  this   way  with  my  children-     It  is  true   that 
Brother  Cousins  has  not  said  anythmg  to  me  about  it. 
You  keep  writing  that  you  are  going  to  send  it  in  your 
next  letter  ;  you  know  I  hke  to  act  ^^dependent^^  and  1 
wish  you  to  help  me  do  so  now,  if  you  p  ease.   Do  g^?« 
my  compliments  to  aunt  Moore,  and  tell  her  the  chd- 
dren  all  send  their  love  to  her.      They  send  their  lo.e 
to  you  and  say  they  want  to  kiss  you  migh  y  bad.    ihe 
chddren  send  their  love  to  brother  Edward.     I  long  to 
see   you,  husband.     No  more  ^^  present    but  remain 
your  lovmg  wife  till  death.  KYNAR  JONLb. 

The  next  letter  is  in  answer  to  the  letter  from  my 
wife,  given  above. 

Wilmington,  N.  C,  Aug.  12,  184J. 
My  Dear  Wife— I  received  your  paper  oi  the  10th 
to-day.      I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  well,  and  the 
children  and  friends.     I  have  written  to  Brother  Cous- 
ins, and  told  him  to  tell  you  that  1  had  not  sold  out  yet 
But  I  hope  to  sell  in  a  few  days,  and  then  I;vdl  sen 
you  some  money.     My  dear  wife,  you  know  that  1  w  U 
do  all  I  can  for  you  and  for  my  children,  and  that  with 
aU  my  heart.     Po  try  and  wait  on  me  a  few  days,  and 


44      NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

I  hope  you  will  see  me  and  the  money  too.  I  am  try" 
ing  to  do  all  I  can  to  sell  out,  but  you  know  how  it  i^ 
here,  and  so  does  Brother  Cousins.  I  will  do  all  I  know, 
for  I  think  of  you,  my  dear  wife,  and  the  children,  day 
and  night.  If  I  can  get  my  money,  I  will  see  you  soon, 
by  the  help  of  God  and  my  good  friend,  and  that  is  a 
woman  ;  she  is  waiting  for  me  to  come  every  day.  My 
dear  wife,  all  I  want  is  money  and  your  prayers,  and 
the  prayers  of  my  friends.  I  know  that  God  will  help 
me  out  of  my  trouble  ;  I  know  that  God  is  my  friend, 
and  I  will  trust  to  Him.  You  wrote  to  me  that  Mrs. 
Chavis  left  New  York.  She  has  not  got  home  yet.  I 
hope,  dear  wife,  that  you  have  done  all  your  part  for 
her.  Do  give  my  love  to  Brother  Cousins  ;  ask  him  to 
pray  for  me,  and  all  God's  people  to  pray  for  me,  a  poor 
slave  at  this  time.  My  dear  wife,  since  I  wrote  last,  I 
have  seen  much  of  the  goodness  of  the  Lord.  Pray  for 
me,  that  I  may  see  more,  and  that  I  may  trust  in  Him. 
My  dear  wife,  I  want  you  should  pray  for  me  day  and 
night,  till  you  see  me.  For,  by  the  help  of  God,  I  will 
see  you  all  soon.  I  think  now  it  will  be  but  a  few  days. 
Do  give  my  love  to  my  children,  and  tell  them  that  I 
want  to  kiss  them  all.  Good  night,  my  dear,  I  must  go 
to  feed,  it  is  one  o'clock  at  night,  and  I  have  a  pain  in 
my  head  at  this  time.  Do  tell  Brother  Cousins  that  I 
say  he  must  look  out  for  me,  on  John  street,  in  a  few 
days.  Nothing  more,  but  I  remain  your  husband  till 
death.  THOMAS  JONES. 

Letter  from  my  wife. 

Brooklyn,  August  23,  1849. 
My  Dear  Husband — It  is  with  the  affectionate 
feeling  of  a  wife  I  received  your  letter  of  the  19th  inst. 
It  found  me  and  the  children  well,  and  we  were  glad  to 
hear  that  you  was  well.  But  we  feel  very  sorry  you 
have  not  sold  out  yet ;  I  was  in  hopes  you  would  have 
sold  by  the  time  you  promised,  before  I  got  home. 
Your  letter  found  Mr.  Cousins  and  his  wife  very  sick. 
Mr.  C.  has  not  been  out  of  the  house  goino-  on  two 
weeks.     He  was  taken  by  this  sickness,  so  common, 


NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 


45 


wlilcli  carries  so  many  people  off,  but,  by  the  help  of 
God  and  good  attendance,  lie  is  muck  on  the  mend,  and 
his  wife  also.  You  ask  how  much  I  pay  for  board.  It 
is  three  dollars  a  week  for  myself  and  children,  in  all 
the  letters  you  have  written  to  me,  you  don't  say  a  word 
of  mother  or  Edward.  It  makes  me  feel  bad  not  to 
hear  from  them.  Husband,  I  have  not  paid  Mr.  Cous : 
ins  any  board,  and  am  waiting  for  you  to  send  me  sonie 
money.  I  will  pray  for  you  hourly,  publicly  and  pri- 
vately, and  beseech  the  Almighty  God,  till  I  see  you 
again.  I  shall  trust  in  God  ;  He  will  do  all  things  for 
the  best.     I  am  yours  till  death  do  us  Part. 

Last  letter  to  my  wife  from  the  land  of  bondage. 

Wilmington,  N.  C,  Aug.  30,  1849. 
My  Dear  Wife — I  have  been  quite  sick  for  three 
weeks,  but,  thank   God,  I  am  better  at  this   time,  and 
hope  these  few  lines  will  find  you  and  the  children  aU 
well.     I  hope,  my  dear  wife,  that  you  have  not  got  out 
of  heart  looking  for  me  ;  you  know  how  it  is  here  ;  i 
did  think  I  would  have  got  my  money  here  before  this 
time.     But  I  can't  get  it,  and  I  will  leave  'all  and  come 
to  you  as  soon  as  I'can.     So  don't  get  out  of  heart,  my 
dear  wife  ;  I  have  a  hard  trial  here  ;    do  pray  for  me, 
that  the  Lord  may  help  me  to  see  you  all  soon._  I  think 
of  you  day  and  night,  and  my  dear  children  ;  kiss  them 
for  me  ;  I  hope  to  kiss  them  soon.     Edward  is  sold  to 
Owen  Holmes  ;  but  I  think  Mr.  Josh.  Wright  will  get 
him  from  H.     I  have   done   aU  I  could  for  Edward. 
Don't  think  of  coming  back  here,  for  I  will  come  to  you 
or  die.     But  I  want  you  should  write  one  more  letter 
to  me,  and   say  you  will  be   home  in  a  month.     Mr 
Dawson  will  be  in  New  York  next  week,  and  you  will 
see  him  ;  mind  how  you  talk  before  him,  for  you  know 
how  it  is,  though  he  is  a  friend  to  me.     Now,  you  must 
mind   what  I  tell  you,  my  dear  wife,  for  if  you  don  t, 
you  will  make  it  hard  for  me.   Now,  my  dear  wife,  you 
must  not  come  back  here  for  your  brother  and  sister  ; 
they  talk  too  much  ;  but  mind  what  I  say  to  you,  tor 


46       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

you  know  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you  ;  you  must  not 
think  that  you  will  not  get  any  money,  for  you  shall 
have  it  soon.  Don't  get  out  of  heart,  my  dear  wife  ;  I 
hope  I  shall  see  you  soon.  Nothing  more,  but  I  remain 
your  husband  till  death. 

THOMAS  JONES. 
Soon  after  despatching  this  letter,  I  bargained,  while 
my  master  lay  sick,  with  the  steward  of  the  brig  Bell, 
to  stow  me  away  in  the  hold  of  the  ship,  and  take  me 
on  to  New  York.  I  paid  him  eight  dollars,  which  was 
all  the  money  I  then  had  or  could  get.  I  went  into 
the  hold,  with  an  allowance  of  biscuit  and  water,  and 
the  ship  started.  She  was  loaded  with  turpentine,  and 
I  found  on  the  second  day  that  I  could  njt  live  out  the 
passage  there.  So  I  told  the  steward,  and  he  took  me 
out  in  a  ;tate  of  great  weakness,  and  stowed  me  away 
in  one  of  the  state-rooms.  Here  I  was  discovered  by 
the  captain.  He  charged  me  with  being  a  runaway 
slave,  and  said  he  should  send  me  back  by  the  first  op- 
po.tu.iity  that  offered.  That  day  a  severe  storm  came 
on,  and  for  several  days  we  were  driven  by  the  gale. 
I  turned  to  and  cooked  for  the  crew.  The  storm  wai 
followed  by  a  calm  of  several  days ;  and  then  the  wind 
sprung  up  again,  and  the  captain  made  for  port  at  once. 
1  had  reason  to  suspect,  from  the  manner  in  which  I 
was  guarded,  after  the  ship  came  to  anchor  off  New 
York,  that  the  captain  was  plotting  to  send  me  back. 
I  resolved  to  j)eril  life  in  a  last  effort  to  get  on  shore. 
So,  while  the  captain  was  in  the  city,  and  the  mate 
was  busy  in  the  cabin  mending  his  clothes,  I  made  a 
raft  of  such  loose  board?  as  I  could  g3t,  and  hastily 
bound  them  together,  and  committing  myself  to  God,  I 
launched  forth  upon  the  waves.  The  shore  was  about 
a  mile  distant ;  1  had  the  tide  in  my  favor,  and  with  its 
help  I  had  paddled  one-fourth  the  distance,  when  the 
mate  of  the  BeU  discovered  my  escape,  and  made  after 
me  in  the  boat.  I  waved  my  old  hat  for  help,  and  a 
boat,  which  seemed  to  be  coining  round  not  far  from 
me,  came  to  my  rescue.  I  was  taken  on  board.  They 
asked  me  if  I  was  a  slave,  and  told  me  not  to  fear  to 


NA.ERATIVE  OF  A  EEFUGEE  SLAVE.  47 

tell  the  truth,  for  I  was  with  friends,  and  they  would 
protect  me.     I  told  them  my  circumstauces  just  as  they 
were.     They  were  as  good  as  their  word.     W  hen  the 
mate  came  up  they  ordered  him  to  keep  ott,  and  tola 
him  they  would  prosecute  him  if  he  touched  me.    mey 
took  me  to  Brother  Cousins,  and  gave  me  a  httle  money 
and  S3me  clothes  in  addition  to  all  their  other  kmdness. 
The  meeting  with  my  wife  and  children  1  cannot 
describe.     It  was  a  moment  of  joy  too  deep  and  holy 
for  any  attempt  to  paint  it.     Husbands  who  love  as  i 
have  loved,  and  fathers  with  hearts  of  fond,  devoted 
affection,  may  imagine  the  scene  and  my   feehngs,   as 
ray  dear  wife  lay  sobbing  in  her  joy  in  my  arms,  and 
mv  three  dear  little  babes  were  clingmg  to  my  knees, 
crvino-,  "Pa  has  come :    Pa  has  come."     It  was  the 
happy  hour  of  my  life.     I  then  felt  repaid  for  all  my 
troubles  and  toils  to  secure  the  freedom  oi  my  lamily 
and  my  own.     O  God,  would  that  my  other  dear  ones 
were  here,  too.     God  in  mercy  speed  the  day  when 
rhrht  shall  over  might  prevail,  and  all  the  down-trodden 
sons  and  daughters  of  toil  and  want  shall  be  free  and 
pious  and  happy.  , 

I  have  but  little  mor*  now  to  say.     ihe  babbatH 
after  my  arrival  in  Brooklyn,  I  preached  in  the  morning 
in  the  Bethel ;  I  then  came  on  to  Hartford.     A  gentle- 
man kindly  paid  my  passage  to  that  place,  and  sent  me 
an  introduction  to  a  true-hearted  friend.     1  staid  in 
Hartford  twenty-four  hours  ;  but  finding  I  was  pursued, 
and  being  informed  that  I  should  be  safer  m  Massachu- 
setts than  in  Connecticut,  I  came  on  to  Springfield,  and 
from  thence  to  Boston,  where  I  arrived,  penniless  and 
friendless,  the  7th  of  October.    A  generous  friend  took 
me,  though  a  stranger,  in,   and  fed   and  cheered  me. 
He  loaned  me  five  dollars  to  get  my  dear  family  to 
Boston.     He  helped  me  to  get  -a  chance  to  lecture   m 
May  Street  Church,  where  I  received  a  contribution  ot 
12.58 ;  also  in  the  Sion  Church,  where  I  obtained  ^y^-^^'y 
and  in  the  Bethel  Church,  where  they  gave  me  1^.53. 
And  so  I  was  enabled  to  get  my  family  to  Boston.    I.n- 
tirely  destitute,  without  employment,  I  now  met  with  a 


48       NARRATIVE  OF  A  REFUGEE  SLAVE. 

kind  friend,  who  took  me  with  him  to  Danvers.  I  lec- 
tured and  prcaclieO.  In  the  Free  Evangelical  Church, 
and  received  n\03t  generous  and  opportune  aid.  They 
gave  me  ten  dollars,  and  by  their  kindness  they  lifted 
up  a  sinking  brother.  The  next  Sabbath  evening  I 
lectured  in  the  Wesleyan  Church  in  Boston,  and  re- 
ceived a  contribution  of  $3.33.  During  the  week  fol- 
lowing, I  was  assisted  by  the  pastor  of  this  Church,  and 
by  several  individual  members.  The  next  Sabbath  I 
spent  with  Brother  Flanders,  of  Exeter,  N.  H.  He 
gave  me  a  brother's  warm  welcome.  I  preached  for  him 
in  the  Wesleyan  Church,  of  which  he  is  pastor,  in  the 
mornino;,  and  lectured  in  the  evenincp  to  a  full  and  at- 
tentive  house.  Here  I  received  a  generous  contribution 
of  nearly  ten  dollars.  To-morrow  is  Thanksgiving 
Day.  Go  1  will  know,  and  He  alone  can  know,  the 
deep  and  fervent  gratitude  and  joy  with  which  I  shall 
keep  it,  as  I  gather  my  friends,  my  dear  family,  around 
me  to  celebrate  the  unspeakable  goodness  of  God  to 
me,  and  to  speak  with  swelling  hearts  of  the  kindness 
of  the  dear  friends  who  have  poured  upon  our  s  idness 
and  fears  the  sunlight  of  sympatriiy,  love  and  generous 
aid.  May  the  blessing  of  Heaven  rest  down  now  and 
forever  upon  them,  is  the  prayer  of  their  grateful 
brother,  and  of  his  dear  family,  by  their  kindness  saved 
from  pinching  want. 

But  alas  !  it  was  not  long  before  I  found  that  I  was 
not  yet  free.  I  had  not  yet  slipped  from  the  chain. 
The  Fugitive  Slave  Law  drove  me  from  my  kind  friends 
in  New  England,  and  I  found  that  my  wanderings  were 
not  yet  ended.  I  took  refuge  in  the  British  Provinces, 
where  God  had  provided  a  house  of  refuge  for  the 
houseless,  homeless  slave.  Tribulation  and  distress, 
with  many  kind  dealings  of  Providence  and  wonderful 
deliverances,  have  since  been  my  lot.  I  hope  to  be 
able  to  tell  in  another  narrative,  of  my  adventures  after 
the  close  of  this  story,  of  the  kindness  of  friends  and 
the  goodness  of  God. 

THOMAS  H.  JONES.  ' 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 


3  0112  060001556 


